Arrow - Limitations
by RoseThistleLady
Summary: Starling City is under attack and on fire. Laurel Lance and Oliver Queen have been kidnapped. Detective Lance and the SCPD need all the help they can get. It's up to the rest of Team Arrow to save Oliver and the city before time runs out on both.


_**Arrow - Limitations**_

**Chapter One**

Starling City during daylight hours was a place of extreme contrasts, not just in its various localities but also in the lifestyles of its varied inhabitants. For a privileged few there were areas of richness and beauty to inhabit and socialise in, framed by audacious shining steel and glass architecture, lush green parks, and a luxurious marina. For the minority, and especially those who lived and worked in and around the district called The Glades, lives were framed by cramped concrete buildings covered in graffiti and typified by a daily struggle to maintain honesty and health amidst the devastation caused firstly by the earthquake triggered by Malcom Merlyn's Undertaking two years ago, and then more recently by the marauding mirakuru army unleashed by Slade Wilson last year.

Starling City at night was another world entirely, and in the main populated by two kinds of people – those that feared the Arrow and those that supported the Arrow. The former Vigilante, who had launched his one man war against the criminals of Starling City over two years ago, had now turned from the man the Starling City Police Department devoted their time to catching, to the man that the cops were willing to unite behind in order to maintain justice.

His bow string stretched taught, a projectile loaded, the Arrow aimed his weapon at his target. His blue eyes gleamed from behind the black mask specifically designed to mould itself to the contours of his face whilst not restricting his eyesight; a mask that helped to hide his true identity from the populace of Starling City. Well, from the vast majority of them.

Back at the basement headquarters of Team Arrow, secreted underneath Verdant nightclub in the Glades, Felicity Smoak, one of the few who knew the Arrow's true identity, was scanning three computer terminals on her steel workstation and processing a variety of both visual and auditory updates as she communicated with the three other members of Team Arrow out in the field via their Bluetooth earpieces.

"John, are you in position?"

"Roger that", said John Diggle as he looked out through the windscreen of the black van he'd parked fifty yards from the rear of the building the team were aiming to attack. Diggle reached into his gun holster and withdrew his snub nosed Glock, unloading the round dispenser, checking its full content, and slipping it back into position. Diggle had already checked the firearm, but he was someone who never took any chances before he entered a battle. As he'd always told the men who were under his command in Afghanistan, "Check, then check again. Never miss an opportunity to be prepared". Words his father had once said to John suddenly came to him, "Be prepared; once a boy scout, always a boy scout". Except now of course he was a heavily armed boy scout.

"In position," said Roy Harper, aka Arsenal, as he climbed the final few steps up to reach the roof of the semi-derelict warehouse on the outskirts of the Glades. It was a cold night and Roy puffed out a short steam of breath as he stepped from the enclosed staircase in to the night air. He jogged over to the edge of the building and spotted John's van parked further along the roadway of the run down industrial area. Roy's dark eyes scanned the roof top of the building, and the roofs within the immediate vicinity.

"Coast is clear," said Roy, who went to take up position, his right hand gripping the bow he carried, his reflexes coiled and ready to pull an arrow from the quiver strapped across his back. He was dressed head to toe in dark red leather, and his blood was racing, but he could still feel the chill of the evening as he walked across the roof.

"Oliver?" enquired Felicity as she tapped her thin and lithe fingers across one of the three keyboards in front of her on the steel workbench. On the screen before her, the tracker devices in the boots of each of her colleagues pinged their location to an area on a satellite image of the warehouse and the structures surrounding it. Felicity was hacking a satellite to download the image. She had lost count of how many federal offences she had racked up over the past two years working for this team.

"In position", asserted Oliver via the communication device embedded into the dark green leather jacket that covered his muscular torso.

"According to the SCPD chatter I intercepted the deal started going down about twenty minutes ago. Infra-red spectrometry is showing more than a dozen bodies moving about on the ground floor of the warehouse. There are at least five on the upper storey, with one guard positioned by every exit on both floors. There's no working CCTV cameras I can access within the building but I'm assuming the bad guys inside are all armed," said Felicity, talking to herself in the basement headquarters of Team Arrow but simultaneously talking to her three colleagues via their earpieces.

"You think?" said Roy, sarcastically.

Felicity ignored the comment and continued.

"SCPD officers have formed a tight cordon two blocks back so if anyone does escape, they'll pick them up. Lance is ready to give the order to move in towards your position."

Everyone was in place, the team had worked through a variety of scenarios in a variety of locations over the last few months; Oliver, John and Roy worked well together and knew how to cover each other's backs. They were skilled fighters and had the element of surprise in their favour, but even with this advantage they were greatly outnumbered by the men inside the warehouse. Getting the upper hand in such a situation was the priority.

Oliver breathed out slowly, and tensed his arm muscles ready for the arrow to take flight from his bow. He spoke in a calm and even tone.

"Felicity, tell Lance to give the order to move in four minutes. Oh, and make it rain."

"With pleasure," said the blonde haired IT expert as she tapped a few buttons on her keyboard and set of the fire alarm system in the warehouse, which she had hacked into an hour earlier in preparation for the attack on the warehouse.

Inside the warehouse every nozzle of the fire alarm sprinkler system in the ceiling of the building suddenly started spraying out cold water. Surprise and panic gripped every confused member of the gang within the building as they were suddenly sprayed with water. At the same time as the sprinkler system became active, the Arrow let loose his bow string and an arrow tipped with high compound explosive material shot towards the locked doorway of the warehouse. The resulting fireball seared a hole in the corrugated steel and blew at least one armed gang member patrolling near the doorway to the floor unconscious.

Diggle, whose face was now covered by a ski mask, gunned the van to life and sped closer towards the warehouse. He pulled up sharply, flung open the driver's side door, pulled out his weapon and jumped from the van, crouching behind the open driver's side door, he reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a wireless remote and depressed the button on it. The device set off a detonation charge, placed on the rear door of the warehouse – a detonation device that Oliver had planted twenty minutes earlier in his initial recce of the building. Once the debris had settled John headed for the entrance the explosion had created, his gun pointing ahead of him. As he stepped through the scorched and burning doorway he quickly noticed a guard had been knocked unconscious due to his proximity to the explosion when it had gone off. One down, too many to go thought Diggle.

As soon as Roy had heard the first explosion he pulled an arrow tipped with explosive material from his quiver and fired it through a vaulted section of the rooftop made of glass covering a steel frame. As the glass shattered he jumped down through the frame and landed on the upper storey of the warehouse. He crouched on the floor and quickly scanned his surroundings. He was about five feet away from an armed guard. The guy didn't have time to react from the glass crashing around him before he received a swift right cross punch which sent him sprawling to the ground. Roy kicked a semi-automatic weapon away from the gang member and followed up his initial attack as the guy was trying to raise himself off the floor with a whack across the face with his bow. This time the guy stayed on the floor and didn't move again.

Having delivered the four minute deadline to Lance via her mobile phone, Felicity continued to scan the satellite imagery and the tracker markers of her friends as they moved around the warehouse. Her quick dark eyes rapidly scanned the images on her monitor, and her fingers tapped across the keyboard, bringing up CCTV images from the surrounding area, showing the police moving closer towards the warehouse location. Felicity was tense, and her lips tightened across her teeth occasionally in a grimace as she heard automatic gun fire start to echo around the warehouse and through her earpiece. It was always the same for her sitting in the basement of the Foundry and listening to the battle rage miles away; she never relaxed from the moment her friends left the Foundry until the moment she saw Oliver, John and Roy descend the metal stairs to the Arrow cave; safe and sound.

For the next few minutes there were short and violent altercations between the remaining gang members and the members of Team Arrow. Oliver, John and Roy kept one eye on the man in front of them who they were fighting in that moment, and one eye out for each other – assisting with an arrow, a shot or a punch where possible to level the playing field. Oliver's quick reflexes were easily besting the biggest and strongest of the gang. The Arrow paused after knocking out one of the gang with a roundhouse reverse kick, and saw from the corner of his eye that a few of the SWAT team accompanying Lance had entered through the doorway created by Diggle's explosion. Suddenly automatic gunfire sprayed out from above Oliver's head, aimed at the SWAT team. Their lead man went down, hit in the leg. Oliver wheeled around, lifted an arrow out of the quiver at his back, loaded the projectile into a his bow and aimed up at the gang member on the upper level of the warehouse. The weapon launched and hit home within a second, sending the gunman backwards as the arrow pierced his shoulder; his weapon falling down off the upper level to slam into the concrete floor below.

A single gunshot rang out through the cavernous expanse of the warehouse. Roy whipped around to find a gang member falling to the floor with a shoulder wound, the weapon he had been pointing at Arsenal's head having skittered across the floor of the warehouse. John Diggle stepped out of the shadows.

"Thanks," said a breathless Arsenal.

"You got my back, I got yours," said Diggle as he looked at Roy, before checking his gun and throwing a wary glance at the injured gang member on the floor a few yards from Roy.

John stepped over to the man writhing in agony and threw a punch that knocked him out, then he walked over to pick up the dropped automatic weapon and pulled out the magazine casing, checking the amount of bullets left, before he reinserted the magazine and indicated with his head towards the sound of gunfire on the other side of the warehouse.

"Right now it sounds like we got to check someone else's back."

John and Roy started jogging.

Three minutes later the fight was over, and Team Arrow were the victors.

The captured gang members, all with a variety of injuries, were either bundled into waiting police cars or ambulances to then be taken away for treatment and processing. The flashing lights of the cop cars cast bright fluorescent light across the faces of the police officers who milled about outside the warehouse. Captain Quentin Lance, his coat collar turned up against the increasingly cold night air, stood and watched his team as they marshalled the wounded gang members into their respective vehicles for transportation to either local precincts or Starling General Hospital. There was a grim look of satisfaction on Lance's face.

Tonight's successful action was another dent in organised crime in Starling City. There had been a rash of new gangs and crime connections emerging since the Glades were partly destroyed during the Undertaking, and again after Slade Wilson's mirakuru army went rampaging through the city; and it had been hard for the cops to keep tabs on all the manoeuvrings and shifts in power amongst the crime bosses in Starling. Old established networks of villains had been destroyed and new ones had taken their place, more than ever in fact, and the police were having a hard time keeping up with all the new alliances being formed. And the cops were still reeling from the mass breakout from Iron Heights Prison caused by the man-made earthquake that had destroyed part of Starling over two years ago. An earthquake caused by the maniac billionaire Malcolm Merlyn. Lance gritted his teeth at the recollection. The fact that his own daughter had been involved with Merlyn's son and had nearly lost her life during the earthquake made his stomach turn over even after all this time.

Lance's mobile phone suddenly sprang to life. Lance glanced at the screen but he knew who would be calling.

"Well done Captain," said the gravel deep baritone of the Arrow, who was using a voice amplification tool embedded in his phone to hide that fact it was Oliver Queen at the other end of the line.

"I should say the same to you," said Lance, stepping forward and then turning to cast a glance up towards the roof of the warehouse, where he assumed the Arrow was calling from. The Arrow loved a roof.

"The Markov organisation has been dealt a significant setback," growled the Arrow.

"Yeah, but they'll be back at some point; or a new gang will emerge to take their place. Organised crime in this city is like one of those infections they have to keep inventing a different cure for because it keeps adapting to the antibiotics," said Lance not attempting to hide his frustration. Ever since his heart attack several months ago, which had necessitated him withdrawing from active service on the streets of Starling he had been keenly aware of his physical limitations. One less cop on the streets was not what Starling needed right now.

"You sound tired Captain," said the Arrow, a note of concern in his voice.

"I guess I've been at this crime fighting caper a bit longer than you have; granted with less success. I'm not gonna give up, but this is the worst I've ever known it to be in this city," sighed Lance, looking about him as his men loaded the guns and drugs captured in the warehouse raid into the armoured SCPD transport vehicles.

"It was a good night's work. Get some rest," said the Arrow, before he ended the call.

"Yeah I could say the same to you," muttered Lance as he slipped his mobile phone back into his overcoat pocket.

Oliver briefly looked down at the flashing lights of the SCPD cars and the police officers below, sighting Lance standing off to one side, and then he ran to the other side of the roof and fired an arrow into the concrete before his feet and jumped from the roof. Oliver held on to the attached tough fibre tensile wire to descend down the side of the building. Once he was on the ground he released the cable and ran to the waiting black van twenty yards in front of him. As the Arrow slipped inside the rear of the van Roy closed the door and John Diggle slipped the vehicle into gear and punched his foot down on the accelerator. Within thirty seconds they were leaving the industrial area and slipping unnoticed into the late evening traffic heading into downtown Starling.

Back at the Foundry, Felicity's tension had relaxed now that she had counted her friends back safely and she was now engaged in her normal post-mission assessment. She started doing this without realising it when she joined Oliver and John two years ago. Felicity helped stitch their wounds, disinfect their grazes, and bandages their muscles, and although Oliver was better at suturing, she had become a dab hand at it. Felicity also assessed any damage incurred to their equipment and assisted John with ordering more, and finally she tidied up on the post-mission IT information by hacking into police and hospital systems to check on the processing of victims and perpetrators after each evenings work.

After this post-mission debrief was over, Felicity and Roy both left the Arrow cave. The former headed to her apartment to get a few hours' sleep before she reported in to work at Palmer Industries, where she was employed as Chief technical Officer, and the latter headed towards his apartment in the Glades. Often however, Roy couldn't quite get the adrenaline out of his system quick enough for sleep and he ended up patrolling the area near his apartment, checking on his neighbours and good people in the area who were trying to make an honest living and who were doing so against a wave of petty crime. Roy didn't tell any of Team Arrow that he did this, but he was more than sure they had an idea something was going on as he would occasionally rock up for a mission sporting a bruise he didn't get whilst working with Oliver and John.

Oliver disappeared off to his private area of the Arrow cave and slipped out of his Arrow suit. When he re-emerged, wearing camel coloured combats and a white t-shirt, Diggle was still at one of the steel workbenches cleaning his handgun. Oliver began to check his bow and arrows and other equipment, checking that he had enough to head out on the next night mission, and was about to head over to the padded dummy that he used to train when he noticed something seemed amiss with his friend.

John had already cleaned the gun once, but now he seemed to be doing it again. Oliver knew that John liked to plan and prepare meticulously and operated on a double checking system that he used in the army, but tonight, things seemed different with Diggle. Oliver wondered if, just like Lance, John was feeling the effects of their recent overtime missions in combatting the wave of organised crime activity in Starling, trying to keep the some kind of normality on the streets of the city. As a new parent, John probably was operating on snatched sleep as it was, but combined with their evening work, it was something that Oliver thought he probably needed to address.

Never one for openly discussing his feelings or anyone else's, Oliver shifted uneasily on his feet before he breathed out and headed over to the workbench where Diggle was slowly rubbing an oil cloth over a piece of the handgun that he had taken apart for the second time.

"What's up?" said Oliver softly.

John had been wondering for about an hour whether to even bring the subject up that was on his mind and thought that if he did it would probably be with Felicity, not Oliver, as she was the most sensitive to all the variations in the moods amongst the team. John had never found it easy having heart to hearts at the best of times with the men he used to serve with, or with the men he now "served" with, but Oliver Queen was the King of not wanting to discuss feelings or examine his past or present relationships. John sighed slowly and decided to bite the bullet and give voice to the thing on his mind.

"Lyla's on a mission," said John.

"Lyla's always on a mission," said Oliver calmly.

"I know. I know she can take care of herself just fine. But.."

"But?"

John swivelled on the stool he was sitting on in order to face Oliver.

"But ever since Sara was born, those little nagging thoughts in the back of my brain that used to flare up every time she went on a mission, have started weighing about ten times what they used to," said John as he twisted the oil cloth in his hands.

"John, she'll be fine. Take tomorrow night off. We can cover things here. Take some time to be with your daughter."

"No. Thanks, but if it's all the same to you, I need my head focussing on something until Lyla gets back."

"OK. Go home. Get some rest," said Oliver who gently patted his fiends shoulder. John turned back to his workbench, quickly reassembled the pieces of his hand gun and placed it back in the steel filing tray nearby and then grabbed his jacket and headed towards the rear exit.

As John exited the Foundry Oliver was starting the first of three repetitions of an exhaustive training regime that he had done daily for the past few years, and that had given him the physical shape that now defined him, protected him, and served him as the Arrow.

Diggle assumed he would be heading for another sleepless night worrying about his fiancé but once he had entered his apartment he felt a wave of tiredness wash over him. The nanny, formerly vetted by ARGUS at Amanda Waller's insistence, emerged from the guest bedroom as John entered the kitchen.

"Mr Diggle?"

"Hey, sorry to wake you. I know it's late."

"Not a problem, I'm used to it. Sara went down OK. She's grizzling a little so I think she may be teething."

"I won't wake her."

"She won't mind Mr Diggle, she gets enough sleep during the day."

"Sara takes after her mother. She can catch a nap in the middle of a war zone. Goodnight."

"Goodnight sir," said the nanny, who returned to her room.

John had been unsure about getting a stranger to look after their daughter but neither he nor Lyla were willing to give up their careers, so it was the only option. He was reassured that though the young woman that took the job may have looked like an inexperienced and bookish college grad, her ARGUS clearance meant that she had the requisite skills to protect his daughter should an emergency arise. Lyla had mentioned that she came from a strong military background and spoke at least three languages. John wondered whether someday the young woman babysitting Sara might be trained up to be a fully-fledged ARGUS agent.

John grabbed a beer from the fridge and made himself a sandwich. Once both were consumed he crept towards Sara's nursery and gently opened the door. The light in the hallway cast a wedge of light that crossed her crib, and as Diggle approached she moved in her sleep, but did not wake. John leant on the side of the wooden crib and looked down at the peaceful, warm sleeping form of the centre of his universe, watching her tiny chest rising and falling with every deep breath. As he did on any night he found himself in this position, he swore on everything he held dear that he would do anything to keep her safe.

Fifteen minutes later, John was just slipping beneath cool bed sheets when his mobile phone SMS alert beeped. It was Lyla, checking in, she was safe. John breathed out a deep sigh and lay back against the pillow. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

Felicity had bought Chinese takeout on the way back to her apartment, but had only picked at the food as she checked in on her emails from her "day job" on her tablet after climbing into her favourite flowered pyjamas. She gave a withering look at the washing basket in the corner of her bathroom, making a mental note that she would have to make time for chores at some point this week. Finding the time wouldn't be easy, what with being an executive at Palmer Technology during the day and crime fighter at night, but she would just have to make time. Clothes didn't wash themselves.

Felicity yawned for the third time in less than ten minutes as she was brushing her teeth. Flicking off the bathroom light, she plodded into her bedroom, set the alarm on her mobile phone and fell down on to her bed. She didn't even have time to turn to her favourite foetal position, or pull the duvet over her, before she fell fast asleep exhausted from the day's multiple activities. Felicity lay spread-eagled across the bed, her long blonde hair now out of its tight ponytail and cascading across her pillow.

In the Glades, Roy was happy for once to have a quiet night patrol. There were no robberies for him to try and stop and no attacks on the defenceless for him to intervene in. He ate a burger at the diner two streets away from his apartment, and watched through the slightly misted up window as people walked to and fro along the pavement and across the street. If only they knew that earlier that very evening this young man eating his cheeseburger had been saving these streets from an influx of guns and drugs they may have stopped to say thank you. Roy smiled ruefully. He was glad they didn't know.

Roy kept his wits about him as he walked home, scanning alleyways with his keen eyes and listening for sounds of trouble, but he could sense the quiet on the streets; all was calm tonight. Though he was still not tired, Roy went straight to bed the moment he got back to his apartment. Oliver's training had taught him the value and importance of food and rest after their night time activities. His "A" game was required at a moment's notice, so any chance Roy could get to restore and replenish himself, no matter what his emotional state, was always to be taken. And now that he wasn't constantly haunted by nightmares about his time under the influence of the mirakuru drug he had been injected with by Sebastian Blood, former Mayor of Starling and Slade Wilson's henchman, he found sleep much easier. Though he didn't drift straight off into slumber, like Felicity or Diggle, it only took fifteen minutes before he too was heading for deep sleep.

In an office on the twentieth floor of non-descript concrete commercial building in downtown Starling a woman was talking via speaker phone to a man whose tone had obviously been altered to disguise his true voice. The voice emerging through the speaker phone was deep but sounded oddly metallic, somehow non-human.

The woman was striking, not beautiful, in appearance, with a hard edge to her countenance that hinted at strength not warmth. Her clothes were well cut and form fitting, but they were plain and she wore minimal adornments. At first glance one might assume she was a businesswoman engaged in a late night meeting; but the business she was in had little to do with the corporate world.

There is another man in the room with the woman. Tall, well built, with a shorn head, and dressed in black from head to toe. The man stood erect with his feet slightly apart and his hands down at his sides, regularly flexing and balling his fingers, as if ready to pounce or move at a moment's notice. From his bearing anyone viewing the scene would assume he was from a military background. It was not unusual for a successful businesswoman to require a bodyguard, but on closer analysis there was more to their relationship than this. The woman was seated, in control, the man standing before her, awaiting her orders.

The man was carrying a concealed handgun inside a shoulder holster beneath his close fitting leather jacket. The woman was aware he was armed, and this didn't concern her in the slightest; in fact it was a prerequisite to be armed in her line of work and she carried a gun herself. He knew the reputation of the woman sitting at the desk before him within the industry they both worked in, and though he might be bigger and stronger than her he was wary in her presence. He was being well paid to follow her orders, but her known abilities also made her worthy of his attention.

The metallic baritone emerged again from the speakerphone.

"Are the plans and our teams in place?"

"Yes, everything has been checked," the woman's tone was cool and business-like. She leaned forward in her padded leather chair behind the wooden desk that held the speaker phone, and leaned towards the device.

"Excellent," the mystery man's tone seemed pleased.

"Markov's organisation is all but destroyed after the fiasco at the warehouse earlier. We could easily bring the timetable forward, I…"

"No!" the man's tone was now stern, "we stick to the original plan. Sacrificing Markov was a calculated gamble on your part, but it paid off. I don't want any more risks taken. Is that understood?"

"Very well," the woman's tone was conciliatory but her eyes are shining with an opposite emotion.

"Stage Two commences the day after tomorrow. Tell your men. I want no mistakes."

"Yes sir," said the woman, who reached a red tipped nail towards the speaker phone and punched the button that terminated the call.

The woman in the smart tight fitting dress rose from the chair she had been perched on and walked around the outside of the desk to address the tall man in black. She smoothed her dress down over her hips as she walked towards him.

"Rivers, finalise your plans, we start stage two in less than forty-eight hours."

The tall man looked at the woman, a question forming on his lips. She must have seen the hesitation in his expression for she stepped forward.

"Is there a problem," she said.

"No. It's just….Target One, he's a nobody now, he's a virtual bankrupt. Is anyone going to mind him disappearing?" said Rivers.

The woman smiled faintly at Rivers, turned on her heel and sauntered over to the desk, turning to lean against it.

"You and I are similar creatures at heart Rivers. We were born and raised in a world that didn't care for us. Target One, on the other hand, was raised by a world that adored him, showered him with life's pleasures, and threw luck at his feet like petals. When you rip him from the streets of this city, its citizens will take up arms to save him, it will be _the_ news item on every channel, and it won't matter to them that he isn't rich anymore. He is and always will be Starling City's favourite son," the woman stood up from the desk and walked towards Rivers, "Stick to the plan. Set your men to work."

The woman came to a stop inches away from the man and stared into his eyes. Rivers nodded at the woman, his face taut with affirmation. He turned and marched over to the doorway, and let himself out of the office.

The woman turned towards the window that took up one whole wall of the office and slowly walked towards it, her five inch heels tapping gently on the tiled floor beneath her feet. When she was inches away from the window she stopped and looked out at the city view before her. Starling City at night was something to behold, a cacophony of steel, glass and lights; dazzling and dramatic.

"He sounded in a better mood than normal," said a man's voice as he emerged from the other side of the room.

The woman did not scream out or turn around in surprise thinking she was alone, she knew the man was there. He was not present at the meeting that just occurred in the room, he had been hiding in the anteroom just behind the desk where the woman was sitting.

"He's like any fool that thinks satisfaction can be achieved by the blind obedience of others," said the woman flatly, "and for now, he's a necessary evil."

"What's he got against this city anyway?" said the man finally coming to stand close behind the woman. The two of them looked out over the skyline of Starling City, glittering and impressive.

"Oh I suppose it chewed him up and spat him out or some other sob story," said the woman dismissively.

"It's beautiful though, don't you think?" said the man gazing out at the view.

"And in a few days' time it'll all be burning," she oozed in reply, her eyes shining at the thought.

A thin smile crossed the woman's face as she stared out at the skyline of Starling City.

_**Chapter Two**_

The next afternoon Oliver, Diggle and Roy practiced their fighting technique in the Arrow cave, whilst Felicity was at her day job with Palmer Technology. When Ray Palmer had been successful in taking over Queen Consolidated, he had turned the former QC building in the business district of Starling City into his new headquarters. Whilst Felicity spent her day on the thirty-ninth floor of a modern high rise, in Oliver Queen's former office, with its panoramic bird's eye view of Starling, the rest of Team Arrow spent time a vault with a high ceiling and leaking pipes beneath a night club in a run-down area of the Glades.

Oliver, John and Roy took it in turns to try and beat each other senseless in bouts of unarmed combat or using metal and wooden sticks; sometimes one on one, but more often than not in an all-out assault by all three of them on each other simultaneously.

"Remember punch from the hip, you get the power of your hand and shoulder amplified when you torque your hip into the punch. If you punch that way, you make it count, and the guy is more likely to go down and stay down" said John, breathing hard as he sparred with Roy.

"I should punch from the hip every time I throw one then," said Roy amused.

"Lesson learned," said John with a glint in his eye and he threw a punch at Roy, who dodged it successfully.

"Don't forget to breathe," said Oliver joining in the sparring by taking on first John and then Roy simultaneously, pivoting quickly on his feet to throw and then deflect punches from both men. Roy began throwing more punches towards Oliver, forgetting his breathing, gasping as he tried increasing the rate of his attack. Before long Roy was crashing to the mat and gulping down lungful's of air. Oliver stood both feet apart, his hands resting at his side, and looked benignly down at the young man on the mat.

"If you don't breathe properly your muscles are starved of oxygen, and they lose their power," said Oliver calmly, "and it won't matter what you do with your hip."

Oliver then took them all through practice with a bow and arrow, concentrating specifically on Roy as this was now Arsenals' weapon of choice when Team Arrow hit the streets every night. Sweat was pouring off of all of them by the end of the training session, and both Roy and John were panting for breath. As always Oliver was sweating less than they were and his breathing was more regulated. Roy, as the youngest of the men, was always bemused by Oliver's ability to recoup quicker than him, but as John always said youth was no indication of stamina.

Their workout completed, Diggle and Roy took it in turns to use the shower that Felicity had had installed when she organised the overhaul of the Arrow cave a couple of years ago. John and Roy then went out to get food for them all, and returned to the basement of the Foundry to find Oliver still practicing his defensive unarmed combat technique on the padded column in the basement. Only once Oliver was satisfied he had done enough training for the day, which in John's opinion was always more than he needed to do, did he shower and eat.

Though their training routine was essential to the success of the work they were all doing in Starling City at night, it was more than just routine exercise for Oliver. Every time he trained it reminded him of how he was fashioned into a weapon, and he remembered the people who trained him to become so. The man he had become was forged in a crucible of fire that lasted five long years after the Queen's Gambit went down in the North China Sea. Though Oliver would gladly forget some of that time because of the hard choices he had had to make, he could never fully cast memories of those times out of his mind when he was exerting his body during his training regime. With every punch or press up he would recall a painful incident or a face from his past.

Endorphins racing through his system, Oliver bathed in the pleasant ache of his post-work out exertion as he ate.

During the time that her team Arrow colleagues were training in the basement of the Foundry, Felicity had been to two executive meetings and had assisted the Palmer Technology IT team with solving a particularly difficult technical problem affecting archived data storage. It was, symbolically, Felicity's way of working up a sweat.

Felicity had papers spread across her glass topped desk, and she was staring at streams of data pouring across both forty inch monitors on her desk. There was a pen gripped firmly in her mouth lengthways, and her fingers were flying across a keyboard before her, her eyes barely registering the buttons she was tapping as she hit them perfectly in sequence.

"Hey, do you like sushi?" said Ray Palmer, CEO of Palmer Technology, as he bounded into her office, his hands in the pockets of his expensive and well cut suit. Ray Palmer was impressive for a variety of reasons; the top two being that Ray was generally the smartest man in any meeting, and also one of the tallest.

"What?" mumbled Felicity from behind the pen clamped across her mouth. She didn't look up at her boss as he approached her desk, her eyes remained firmly fixed on the computer screens before her.

"Sushi? It's Japanese, really exquisite, tastes good, mostly fish," said Ray as he arrived at her desk and stood looking down at her.

"Er, sure. Yeah I like sushi," said Felicity finally removing the pen from her mouth and dropping it on top of the mass of papers on her desk. She glanced quickly at Ray's face and then back at her screens.

"Great! There's this amazing place downtown, I'll get us a reservation for tonight."

"What? Tonight?" Felicity stopped typing and looked at Ray as he was about to retreat from her office.

"Oh sorry, I should have done things the other way round shouldn't I, finding out if you were free for dinner before asking you to dinner," said Ray, taking his hands out of his pockets and clasping them together.

"Sorry, I have, er plans for later on, yes, plans," said Felicity vaguely.

"Tomorrow night then?"

"Err, well, I'll need to check things with my boss. No, _you're_ my boss. I meant I need to check my diary."

"Your Executive Assistant says you don't have anything in the diary for any night this week," said Ray, raising an eyebrow and smiling tightly.

"I don't tell him everything I do after work. You know what office gossip is like. Not that he would gossip, but you know just in case," mumbled Felicity.

"Ahh, I understand. I guess it must have made working here difficult with all the rumours, you know before."

"What?" said Felicity, swivelling her chair to face Palmer and finally diverting her full attention away from the data on her monitors.

"You know the rumours about you and the last CEO….," Ray raised an eyebrow again to indicate a word he'd rather not say out loud.

"Isabel?"

"No, sorry, I meant the one before that, surname Queen. You know this company has flipped through more hands than a trout at a fish market."

Felicity looked over the top of her glasses at Ray.

"And you listen to office gossip and rumour a lot do you?"

"When it's interesting, sure, and everyone seems to agree it was interesting," said Ray glibly.

"Everyone?" said Felicity, a bemused expression on her face.

"Yeah, pretty much the whole company thought you and he were…you know."

"Fantastic," said Felicity flatly as she stood up from her office chair to face Ray. She reached up a hand and slipped her fingers underneath her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You don't seem that bothered," said Ray as he walked towards her desk again.

"I can't control what people think of me. I know what's true and not true and that's all that matters," said Felicity as she breathed out a little sigh.

"Very admirable. So you won't mind about the new rumour then?"

"What new rumour?" said Felicity, resigned to hear details of yet more inaccurate rubbish.

"That you and I are…" Ray let the sentence hang, but raised both his eyebrows.

"Oh dear God!" shouted Felicity.

"I'm sorry, I mean we've been working really closely together and I probably should have done something about this earlier. I don't want your reputation being ruined," said Ray, his palms open and gesturing towards Felicity.

"More than it is already you mean?"

"Fair point," said Ray.

Felicity stood looking at Ray with her hands on her hips. Ray's eyes seemed to look everywhere but at Felicity. He gestured towards her desk.

"You look really busy; I'll let you get on. I'll take a rain check on the sushi."

Ray Palmer turned on his heel and fairly skipped out of Felicity's office. Felicity sighed heavily and slumped back down into her office chair. Great, she thought as her stomach rumbled, now I'm hungry for sushi.

For the rest of the afternoon not only did Felicity Smoak have to contend with her ever growing hunger pangs but also the nagging thought that her boss was starting to have feelings for her. She wasn't imagining things, Ray Palmer had just asked her to dinner, and they had been spending a great deal of time together every day. She'd also seen Ray work out shirtless on the same climbing frame that Oliver used in the Arrow cave, the same frame that Ray had installed in his office down the corridor, the same frame that distracted Felicity every time she saw Oliver using it. She rolled her eyes at the thought that she really did have a type – billionaire businessmen with muscles, or in Oliver's case, former billionaire businessman.

Felicity sighed again. The complications of getting romantically involved with either of these men would be astronomically bad – she used to be employed by Oliver Queen and was now employed by Ray Palmer, but worked alongside Oliver every night in Team Arrow – but she could not deny that she had feelings for them both.

After her normal day job had finished, Felicity Smoak left the Palmer Technology building, picked up some sushi, and went straight to the Foundry to start her evening shift in the basement with Team Arrow. Captain Quentin Lance called her on her mobile as she was approaching the Foundry asking to speak to the Arrow about an operation his team were putting together for later that night, an operation resulting from another tip off the SCPD had received about the Markov organisation. Felicity assured the Captain she would pass on the request as soon as she made contact with him.

Oliver however was not to be seen in the Arrow cave when Felicity arrived. John was checking first aid supplies in the steel cabinets as Felicity's high heeled shoes came clanking down the steel staircase leading from Verdant nightclub above their heads.

"Hey, how's office life treating you today?" said John breezily.

Felicity stamped over to her workstation, peeled off her coat, threw it over the back of her chair, and slapped her handbag down under the desk.

"Great," she said through gritted teeth.

John looked up at Roy, who was over by the display case housing his Arsenal suit, checking the arrows displayed alongside his bow. Roy shrugged back a reply at John, who walked over to stand by the side of Felicity's chair.

"What's up?" said Diggle softly.

Felicity began looking at the three monitors on her workbench, and tapped briefly at the keyboard before her, before John spoke again.

"Felicity?"

"You know it was so hard for me to get to where I am now. I studied hard and I worked hard. Even at Queen Consolidated when I was in the IT department, and my boss was worse than useless and I could have easily taken his job and done it better. And now I'm an Executive at Palmer's and I earned it, and I'm good at my job," said Felicity in a rambling stream of words, fighting back her frustration.

"Yeah, so, what's the problem?" said Roy stepping forward to stand alongside Diggle.

"The problem is everyone at Queen Consolidated thought I got the job with Oliver by sleeping with Oliver and everyone at Palmer's now thinks I got that job by sleeping with Ray Palmer," said Felicity raising her voice and looking up at both men. "Can't a woman be a success in her own right without someone thinking she had to sleep her way to the top?"

"I bet Lyla doesn't have this problem," said Roy, smirking.

Felicity glared at him.

"Sorry," said Roy, abashed, and walked over to the other side of the room.

Diggle perched himself on the edge of Felicity's desk and leaned down to look at her.

"You worked pretty closely with Oliver when he was CEO, rumours were bound to spread. And I guess the same thing's happening with Palmer. You've told us he's depending on you, on your skills, to get the applied sciences division back up and running."

"It's a bit more than that," said Felicity as she slumped back into her chair.

"How do you mean?" said John, who could see Oliver approaching them across the room.

"I think Ray might be interested in me for more than my skills," said Felicity softly, but not so softly that Oliver didn't hear what she said; especially as Oliver's hearing was acute even from twenty feet away. Oliver stopped in his tracks and looked down at the floor briefly. John knew from Oliver's expression that he had heard what Felicity had said as he approached them both. Not wanting Felicity to know that he had heard, Oliver cleared his throat as he began walking towards her desk space, speaking louder than was required as he approached John and Felicity.

"Hey, do we have any follow up from the attack on the Markov organisation last night?"

"Yes, Captain Lance wanted to talk to you, I mean the Arrow, about another tip off he's had," said Felicity clearing her own throat as she spoke, and only giving a half glance up at Oliver as he stood alongside her. Felicity knew that Oliver couldn't have heard her last comment about Ray Palmer having feelings for her, but she still felt awkward with Oliver standing by her chair.

"OK," said Oliver, "I'll go and see Lance. Hold on," said Oliver as his mobile phone began ringing. He looked at the screen and saw Thea was calling him. Oliver jabbed a thumb at his screen to accept the call and turned his back on his team.

"Hey Thea."

"Hey, are you anywhere near the club?"

"I'm not far away, why?"

"I could really do with talking to you," his sister's voice sounded tired and a little bit sad.

"Now? It's just that I'm…,"said Oliver, rapidly trying to think of an excuse other than "on my way to talk to the police dressed as the Arrow".

"Busy, yeah I know; you're always busy. Forget it," said Thea, resignedly.

"Thea," said Oliver softly, "Give me twenty minutes, I'll be there."

Oliver ended the call and looked over at his team. He didn't have to say anything. They could all read in his face that there was something up with Thea Queen.

"Oliver go and talk to Thea. One of us can talk to Lance about the tip off and we can update you when you get back," said Diggle, standing up from Felicity's workbench.

Oliver dropped a nod at John and then headed towards the rear exit of the Arrow cave, so he could walk around the block and enter Verdant through the front door upstairs like he's just arrived from a different location, rather than the secret basement of the very club his sister runs. Oliver didn't like lying to Thea, but in order to keep her safe, he had to keep up this pretence. If she ever found out that her brother was currently living below Verdant's dance floor, in a secret vault full of weapons and technology, it would be impossible to explain why this was the case without revealing his true identity as the Arrow.

In a run-down building a block away from Verdant nightclub, a man adjusted his high powered range finder and began a close-view scan of the entrance way and the street leading up to the club. The spent cigarette stubs, and empty food containers scattered around the dirty concrete floor of the deserted tenth floor of the building where he stood were testament to how long he had been at his task.

A camera with a telephoto lens, mounted on a tripod, stood against the window frame, its lens pointing out into the street through the remnants of the shattered window pane. The man sucked at his cigarette and then something caught his eye, and he wrenched it from his lips and threw it to the ground. Placing his range finder on the ground he quickly leant down behind the viewer of the camera and scanned the street leading up to the club.

"There you are," the man breathed as he depressed the button on the camera and took several photos.

Without taking his eyes off of the figure walking towards the entrance to the club, the man slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small walkie talkie device. Holding the communication device to his mouth, he clicked the button and spoke briefly.

"This is Site One. I have eyes on Oliver Queen."

"Captain Lance, our mutual friend asked me to get the details of your tip off and the operation tonight," said Felicity in her brisk business like tone, as she spoke via speaker phone from her workbench. John and Roy stood behind her chair listening to every word.

"Too busy to talk to me eh? What's he doing, shopping online for arrows?" Lance's tone was one beat away from full out sarcasm.

"It's something really important; I can't really divulge the details. So, your tip off?" said Felicity.

"We got word that a ship is heading to Starling tonight, bringing in a massive shipment of drugs and guns for Markov. Our guess is the word about last night's disaster either brought forward the regular shipping schedule, or they don't realise how bad things went last night for our friendly neighbourhood crime boss and the shipment is aimed at stamping his authority back on the streets. My money's on the latter," said Lance.

"Mine too", muttered John under his breath.

"SCPD has the docks staked out, we're tracking the ship, it's due to dock in thirty minutes. I thought maybe the Arrow and his team might like to be in at the last death throes of the Markov organisation."

"They would indeed, thank you Captain. Please send the location details through to my mobile," said Felicity, ending the call.

"Suit up," said John looking at Roy, "Felicity, send Roy and I the details as soon as you get them from Lance."

"What about Oliver?" said Felicity swivelling in her chair to face both men.

"Lance and his team have got this covered; we're recon and back up only if required. We can handle that without Oliver. Let him sort things out with Thea," said John as he picked up his handgun ad checked it.

High above the activity currently taking place in the Arrow cave, Oliver has just arrived through the steel entrance door to Verdant nightclub, unaware that someone has been recording his movements along the street, and also unaware that his team is about to go out on a mission without him.

The club is empty apart from the staff who are milling about and preparing for the evening shift that lies ahead; the club will be opening in just over an hour. The Oliver Queen who went on the Queen's Gambit with his father and Sara Lance all those years ago was as familiar with nightclubs as he was with his own home at the time. He had been comfortable and happy in an environment pumping out dance music and laser light__shows, and full of people getting happily drunk as they danced and laughed their cares away. So when Oliver had returned to Starling City after being marooned on a deserted island for five years, the announcement that he would be opening a nightclub came as no surprise to anyone who had known 'party boy' Oliver Queen before he had gone on his fateful trip.

Oliver, though familiar with this type of environment, now felt out of his element in such places after his experiences on Lian Yu. But in the empty club he now walked through to reach Thea, who was sitting on a bar stool looking through some invoices, his current twinge of uncertainty only lay in the content of the conversation they were about to have.

"Hey, Speedy. You sounded a little tired on the phone," said Oliver as he approached his sister at the bar. He noted the pile of paperwork and laptop she had been working on and wondered whether business concerns were weighing on her. Thea dropped her pen and swivelled on the bar stool to turn and face her brother.

"Are you avoiding me?" Thea's tone was almost desperate.

"What? No of course not. Why would you think that?" Oliver stepped forward and reached out a hand towards Thea and gently held her upper arm.

"Well you come all the way out to Corto Maltese and spend ages convincing me to come back to Starling because you need me around, and then I do come back and I hardly see you."

"Thea….." said Oliver softly.

"I know you're mad because I took Malcolm's money to set myself back up again, but I swear I'll pay it back the minute the club starts to make a profit. There's an empty room in my apartment that's yours and if you move in then we'll be able to spend this time together that you wanted so badly."

"I'm sorry you feel like I've not been around recently. I've just been busy that's all," said Oliver placating her.

"Doing what Ollie? You don't work at Queen Consolidated anymore. Have you got a new job?"

Oliver screwed up his mouth in an awkward grimace and took a breath.

"Kind of. Look I'll move some of my stuff out of storage and over to your place tomorrow. How about we have lunch?"

"Well that's more like breakfast to me with the hours I work," muttered Thea, her tone more amenable.

"OK, breakfast at lunchtime then? Tomorrow?" Oliver tipped his head to one side and looked at his sister, his eyes smiling.

"Breakfast at lunchtime sounds great," said Thea, smiling thinly back at him.

Oliver stepped forward and enveloped his sister in a hug. Only then did his warm and calm expression turn to one of concern. A gnawing fear gripped Oliver; he was going to have to pay more attention to the life that Oliver Queen was supposed to be leading so that his sister wouldn't be so suspicious. He never wanted her to know that he had another life, under a hood.

When Oliver returned to the basement of the Foundry, after re-taking a long walk around the block and entering by the secret side entrance, he was still unaware that he had been observed leaving Verdant by the mystery watcher in the disused building nearby. The watcher's instructions had only been to observe Oliver Queen, not follow him, so it was fortunate for Team Arrow that no-one saw former billionaire Oliver Queen enter the disused Foundry, a building on the wrong side of town that hadn't been in operational use for several years.

Felicity was busy working at her computer terminals when Oliver returned. Oliver was expecting Roy to be absent, as he assumed the plan had been for him to go and meet with Lance about the Markov tip off, but Oliver also noticed that John was absent as he scanned the room.

"Felicity where's Digs?"

"He's at the docks checking out the tip off about a weapons and drugs shipment Lance mentioned earlier. The SCPD just impounded a boat at dock thirteen and John and Roy went as back up. They didn't need to fire a shot; it was all over in minutes. Looks like the rest of the Markov crime organisation are now behind bars." Felicity had a satisfied smile on her face.

"Oh. Good," said Oliver flatly, his brows knitted.

Felicity looked up to her left at Oliver's side-on expression. There was definitely something on his mind, but Felicity wasn't sure which of the one hundred and one different things that made Oliver Queen scowl this particular thought was relevant to.

"Is Thea OK?" said Felicity softly.

"Yeah. She just noticed I haven't been around much recently and wanted to know if I was avoiding her. I guess I'm going to have to pay a bit more attention to being Oliver Queen for a while."

"You know John isn't the only one that gets slightly freaked out when you refer to yourself in the third person," said Felicity as her eyes returned to her computer monitors, "but I'm glad Thea's__OK."

"I'll move some stuff over to her apartment tomorrow, have some lunch. It'll be fine."

"You're moving in with Thea? Won't that make the whole slipping away at short notice to save the city a little bit problematic? Especially since you have an astonishingly bad track record of lying convincingly in order to disguise your real intentions, and I speak with personal experience here. Thea's smart, she'll see through them in a heartbeat. You'll have to work on your excuses."

Oliver turned full on to Felicity and gave her an even stare.

"Would you please call Diggle and Roy and tell them both to call it a night once they're finished at the docks," said Oliver slowly and calmly.

"Sure," said Felicity, who smiled tightly.

Several blocks away in another area of the Glades, Laurel and her trainer Ted Grant are sparring in the Wildcat Gym, the training venue that Grant owns and runs. Over the several weeks that Ted has been training Laurel her technique has vastly improved and she is punching and moving much better with each session. She has more control and less anger coursing through her every time she puts on the gloves, and has stopped throwing countless wild punches every time she sets foot on canvas floor of the boxing ring. Ted's training is definitely working at helping her to marshal her raw anger at her sister's death into something more productive and less hazardous to her health. Laurel has also never felt fitter or more focussed.

Unbeknownst to the pair of them sparring in the ring, Quentin Lance slipped in through the side door of the gym and stood quietly in the shadows framing the edges of the square room, watching his daughter trading punches with Ted Grant. Lance is caught between feeling impressed by her movement and power and scared at what she is doing. As a long serving police officer in Starling City he knew exactly how dangerous the streets, and men, could be, and he made sure his daughters knew about these dangers on a regular basis as they were growing up. By insisting that both Laurel and Sara went to self-defence classes he wasn't training them to be fighters, only making sure they could defend themselves through necessity. He gulped down his emotions at the thought that now one of his daughters, Sara Lance, was in the League of Assassins getting into danger every single day, and the other, Laurel, the one he was now watching, was trading punches in a boxing ring with a known criminal. Lance couldn't help but feel he had gone wrong somewhere.

The pain of losing her sister Sara was still raw with Laurel; weeks had passed and she was still having nights when she cried herself to sleep. The knowledge of Sara's death was worsened knowing that she was holding this awful information away from her father, and not only that but Laurel was also disguising the fact that she was pretending to be the Canary; the alter ego that her sister Sara used as a member of the League. Her father believed Sara to be still alive, purely because he knew there had been sightings of the Canary on the streets of Starling. Laurel was scared for her father's health. If he realised that his beloved daughter Sara was actually laying buried in her old grave in Starling Cemetery, his damaged heart would not be able to survive the news. The weight of the secrets she kept was beginning to bear down on Laurel and it was becoming obvious to Ted, who saw her regularly at after-hours training sessions. Ted was not the kind of person who was pro-active with his own feelings, let alone with anyone else's, but there was something about Laurel Lance that had got under his skin, and a woman hadn't done that in a very long time.

Boxing and learning how to street fight was a better high for Laurel than booze and pills ever could be; and she had plenty of experience of the latter to make that judgement. She had fought with her own inner demons, and was still fighting them, attending AA meetings whenever she could. Sara's sudden death could have easily knocked the old Laurel Lance sideways and sent her spiralling down into an alcohol fuelled nightmare, but having waged the battle with that demon, and by learning through the sessions with Ted how to channel her anger, she was surviving her grief one punch at a time. Focussing her anger, raw and powerful as it was, against the unknown person who had so violently taken her sister's life, and channelling that anger into her training was more constructive than lashing out randomly. Ted had taught her that.

Oliver had tried to teach her that too, with words, but he had been unwilling or unable to take her training to a physical level. In his view, Sara would have never forgiven him if he had done this, and he would never forgive himself if he forged Laurel into the kind of weapon that he and Sara had both become. Training Roy and Diggle was different for Oliver. Laurel and he were always too close to each other, their lives too intertwined, to make teaching her an option that he could consider; that and the fact that Laurel Lance found it hard to take advice from anyone.

Laurel had already been admitted to the hospital with serious injuries a few weeks ago when her unplanned revenge attack on a woman beater had gone disastrously wrong. She had been in the first raw stages of grief after Sara had been murdered, when she had listened to a fellow AA sufferer sharing her own demons about not only having to beat the booze but also defend herself against her violent husband. In trying to beat the man that beat another woman she had only succeeded in becoming a beaten woman herself, and she was hell bent on avoiding that again at all costs. Not only for her own health, but also to prevent her father from being forced to lock her away in one of the cells in his precinct to protect her from herself. Laurel vividly remembered seeing the scars both on Sara's back and Oliver's chest, and was definite in her resolve not to end up with a route map showing past traumas in the years to come. For the time being the sessions with Ted are all Laurel can cling to, to steady her amidst the torment of her life; they are all she has that she can look forward to. Laurel hoped that in time she could, by wearing Sara's jacket and mask, honour her sister and make her proud; and ultimately, by becoming the Canary, she could work to make sure Sara's killer was brought to justice.

Laurel and Ted circled around each other once more, the former throwing sharp jabs at the latter, before Ted held his boxing gloves up and tapped them together in front of Laurel's face. It was his signal that the session had come to an end. Sweat glistened on both their arms and necks, and both were breathing deeply from the exertion of the session. Laurel slipped her mouth guard out into the palm of her glove and smiled.

"Feel good?" said Ted, his own mouth guard already removed.

"Yes," said Laurel breathlessly, "and sweaty, I'm hitting the shower."

Ted held the ropes for Laurel and she jumped down onto the concrete floor of the gym, grabbing her towel off a nearby chair as she disappeared through a door into the back of the room. Quentin Lance took this opportunity and slipped out from the shadows where he had been quietly watching Ted and Laurel box. Ted caught sight of him out of the corner of his eye as he jumped down from the boxing ring canvas.

"Hey Mr Lance, I didn't see you there. You want me get Laurel?"

"No. I wanna talk to you," the stern tone in Lance's voice gave Ted Grant an indication how the conversation might proceed. He approached Lance and peeled off his boxing gloves, using his teeth to free the strapping around his wrist. The two men stood a couple of feet apart and appraised each other. Ted had been in stand-off situations like this before with cops, but never with the cop father of a woman he was interested in.

"Say what you have to Detective."

"It's Captain actually. And I only have one thing to say to you. Stay away from my daughter."

"Laurel's a grown woman, she makes her own choices."

"She's been in a bad place just recently and she's not thinking clearly, and you're getting in the way of that," barked Lance, jabbing a finger in Grant's direction.

"I'm not gonna hurt her," said Ted calmly.

"If I thought for one second you were, I would be using my fists and not my words to convince you to stay away from her."

Ted smirked at this and glanced off to the side, taking a step back before he turned his head to look directly at Lance.

"I know how important Laurel is to you, but she's important to me too."

"Then you'll do what I say and step away."

"Oh like you do?" Ted couldn't hide the sarcasm in his voice. Lance reacted to the bait and raised__his voice in return, taking a step forward, and poking a finger towards Ted.

"This is not about me; this is about what's best for Laurel. And what's best for Laurel is not getting involved with a two-bit punk from the wrong part of town with blood on his hands."

Unbeknownst to both men, Laurel had emerged from the back of the room and heard the last sentence spoken by her father. The look on her face as she came into the view of both men is of both surprise and anger.

"Dad!? What are you doing here?"

"I called your office they said you might be here. Laurel, baby, listen to me….," Lance tone was conciliatory and soft as he stepped towards his daughter with his hands open in a pleading gesture.

"You could have phoned me, I would have told you I was coming here," said Laurel sternly.

"Would you?"

Laurel's expression changed to show that she was furious at her father. There was an awkward pause between father and daughter, with Ted looking at Laurel and then Lance and saying nothing. As an experienced boxer he had learnt the hard way to recognise what is and is not his fight and what he could and could not win, and in__this situation he knew instantly he would do well to stay out of it. Quentin cleared his throat and tried to put a lighter tone into his voice.

"I was hoping maybe you'd want to grab something to eat with me, it's been a while."

"Ted and I are going out to eat, you're welcome to join us," said Laurel, knowing full well what her father's reply would be.

"No, that's OK. Another time."

Quentin looked warmly at his daughter and gave her a half smile, then turned to give Ted a brief warning glare before he walked away towards the exit door of the gym, and left the premises. There was a brief moment when neither Ted nor Laurel spoke or looked at each other before Grant broke the silence.

"You're Dad's a good guy," said Ted calmly.

"Yes he is, but he's also over protective."

"He's a cop and he's your father, so he's got two reasons to be suspicious of me. Cut him some slack."

"You're being very generous after what he just called you," said Laurel turning to face Grant.

"Your father wants a good man to deserve you. He can be as tough on me as he likes if it means I get to show him I might be that man."

"Were you planning on showing me too?" said Laurel, trying to hide her smile beneath sarcasm.

"That's goes without saying," said Ted warmly as he stepped closer to Laurel.

"Well, why don't we go and get something to eat and you can start saying something."

Outside Ted Grant's gym in the Glades a figure has been waiting silently in the dark shadows of a nearby alley scanning all the people who have entered and left the building over the past two hours.

Ted and Laurel emerge out on to the alley, their breath mingling in the cold night air, as Laurel waits for Ted to lock up. The figure in the shadows edges a little closer to watch the two of them as they walk up the barely lit alley towards the main road. The mystery man, dressed in dark clothing and wearing a balaclava rolled up on his head like a beanie, slips a hand in his pocket and pulls out a small walkie talkie device, which he holds up to his mouth.

"This is Site Two. I have eyes on the target."

_**Chapter Three**_

Felicity Smoak, a pen clamped across her mouth, with another pen jabbed through the knot securing her long blonde ponytail, and a look of fierce concentration on her face, typed furiously at the keyboard on her steel workbench in the Arrow cave. Intermittently she would move to another keyboard further along the table, check her mobile phone, or move to the large touch screen monitor mounted on a stand behind her desk. Her keen quick eyes scanned the streams of data that poured across all of the monitors and were all but unintelligible to the rest of Team Arrow.

Oliver looked over at Felicity from the opposite end of the room where he has been practicing his unarmed combat defensive techniques on the padded column, and curled a brief smile up the side of his face. For someone whose everyday existence was dependant on computers and mobile phones Felicity had a sentimental attachment to old school communication devices. Oliver wondered whether she actually used the pens or just kept them solely for adornment.

Sweating, and slightly breathless, Oliver stepped over to Felicity's workstation, taking a long swig of water from a bottle, and rubbing a towel over his face. Felicity was used to seeing Oliver walk around the Arrow cave with his shirt off, but it wasn't something she was yet immune to, and despite being busy she had managed to take a brief subtle look at Oliver pounding the column over the top of her glasses.

"What are you doing?" said Oliver as he stood at her side. Felicity removed the pen from her mouth and jammed it through her pony tail.

"I'm creating a complex multi-system algorithm to cross check, codify, and make adjustable outcome assessments in criminal activity based on all available sources that I've been able to hack. Just a fun idea I had in the shower this morning," said Felicity, tapping away at her keyboard, "That's not to say I think about that kind of thing in the shower in general, I obviously think about other stuff."

Felicity's cheeks tinged pink; she clamped her mouth shut and briefly closed her eyes in embarrassment. Oliver breathed out softly and in a patient tone that Felicity had become used to when he was trying to get her to stop babbling and make sense, said simply, "Felicity."

"I've set up a programme to look for patterns of behaviour, criminal behaviour, using the same MO, same weapons, operational areas of activity, so that we can guess where a criminal is possibly going to strike next."

"Don't the police and the FBI do that?"

"Yes, but they don't have the database we've amassed, and they're not big on cross organisational co-operation. We don't have that problem. I'm cross checking data from hacked sources in Central City and Coast City too. The algorithm will use all existing data, everything on our previous cases, plus it's pulling in real time data from police and other crime fighting organisations across the country. It will make projections based on the links it finds in the data. Well, that's the theory anyway."

"You can do all that?" Oliver's tone was half bemused and half impressed.

"I did all that. I started the programme an hour ago. It's working, so hopefully we'll start seeing some projections in the next few hours," said Felicity, with as little build up as if she'd just been surfing the internet and ordered some groceries.

"That's amazing," said Oliver, looking down at Felicity, who graced him with a smile.

"Thanks," she said.

Once Diggle had finished his recon mission with Roy at the docks, and the SCPD had everything under control, he got the phone call from Felicity telling him that Oliver had said to call it a night. Almost simultaneously he received a text message from Lyla to say that she had touched back down from her mission and would be home in thirty minutes. John breathed out a long breath and felt his aching tension start to recede.

From the moment he opened the door to his apartment he knew that everything in his universe was back to normal. Sara was screaming her lungs out and Lyla was pacing around the carpet in the living room trying to settle her daughter's frustration. Diggle stood by the archway leading into the living room area of the apartment, contentedly watching the scene.

"Let me," he said as he stepped towards Lyla and held his arms out for his daughter.

"If she stops the moment you hold her,_ I'll_ start screaming," said Lyla with affectionate malice as she handed Sara over to John. To Lyla's amusement, her daughter continued to cry but the decibel level, and frequency of her sobs, definitely reduced and then less than a minute later, stopped. John opened his mouth to say something but Lyla held up a finger and cut him off.

"Don't say it Diggle, don't say it," she teased him.

"Hey, if you've got the knack…" Diggle smiled and leaned forward to plant a kiss on Lyla's lips.

"She can smell work on me, I swear. I'm heading for a shower," said Lyla as she walked towards their bedroom.

As John walked around the apartment gently patting his daughter's back until she began dozing in his arms he let his mind wander back to a time when neither of these women was in his life. How did I ever cope before the two of them, he thought, and how will I ever cope if anything happens to either of them?

Thea had left the loud crowd in Verdant nightclub dancing and drinking their night, and their worries, away under the careful watch of one of her assistant managers and had decided to call it a night herself. That's if after midnight could technically be called "a night" that is. As she closed the door to her spacious and well-appointed loft apartment in downtown Starling City behind her, and flicked on the overhead light of the living room, she breathed out a tired sigh.

Instantly however her senses were alert to the fact she was not alone. Her instincts kicked in, she drew he door keys back into her fist, a jagged key poking through between two fingers, and she calmed her breathing, balancing her weight evenly ready for fight or flight. In the semi-darkness her eyes scanned the room, corner by corner, her head hardly moving, and her eyes wide and open to any sudden movement. Thea suddenly saw a shape move at the rear of the darkened open plan kitchen area.

Thea straightened up, released the keys in her hand, chucked them into the bowl on the table by the front door, and sighed heavily.

"I know that everyone thinks you're dead but that doesn't mean you have to creep around my apartment like a ghost," said Thea talking to thin air, but knowing that Malcom Merlyn was hanging back in the shadows of her kitchen.

"You have the same sense of humour as your brother," said Merlyn as he stepped forward into the light of the large room.

"I'll take that as a compliment", muttered Thea.

"Do as you please, it wasn't intended as one," said Merlyn approaching his daughter to give her an even stare. Thea in return threw him a look of warning. Would he attack first, or would she? Such had been the way of her training, not knowing if her own father would launch a violent assault on her at any time of the day or night, or just walk up and hug her.

A small, thin smile crawled across Merlyn's lips as if he knew exactly what Thea was thinking at that moment. He was pleased with the thought, but he was in no mood to fight her tonight. He stepped forward and lightly embraced his daughter.

"What are you doing here?" said Thea.

"Is a man not allowed to visit his daughter?" said Malcolm with mock umbrage.

"By breaking into her apartment in the middle of the night and hiding in the dark like a mushroom? Nice visiting skills," said Thea sarcastically as she walked passed Merlyn and headed to the kitchen, turning on the ceiling lights in that area.

"I've noticed in your last few training sessions that you've been tired. I just wondered if you were sleeping OK, and if not if there was a particular reason for that," said Malcolm as he watched Thea making herself a drink.

"I've been busy with the club, and worried about Ollie. I'm going to watch my hours at Verdant, and I'm having lunch with my brother tomorrow. It's all in hand. I'll be ready and able for anything you want to throw at me next time," said Thea looking directly at her father.

"Good," said Merlyn, "I have to go away for a couple of days. If you need me, you know how to contact me. Get some rest."

Malcolm Merlyn smiled benignly at his daughter and then walked towards the front door to her apartment, opened it, and let himself out. As he tripped down the back stairs of the apartment block he felt assured that his nagging fears that Thea's tiredness was caused by bad dreams were rootless. If she had been experiencing dreams recalling the events of the night that she killed Sara Lance under the command of a mind-control drug he would have sensed her worries. After seeing Thea, Merlyn was assured that an occurrence of nightmares about that evening was not causing the tiredness he had noted in his daughter.

Captain Quentin Lance sat in his office and slurped a large mouthful of tepid coffee from an SCPD mug, and opened yet another buff folder bearing yet another report. His mobile sounded an alarm and he reached for his plastic bottle of heart medication, prescribed after a massive heart attack several months ago had almost seen him into an early grave. Lance had always assumed he'd either live forever or be killed in the line of duty. He found it ironic that an organ he hardly ever thought about, but which he expected to just do its job, had almost killed him. After swallowing his pill he stretched his neck and back and sighed audibly due to the muscle tension from both areas. He closed his eyes and grimaced out a slow breath, letting his mind drift.

It had been a long day, a long week, hell a long year. Lance gulped back another mouthful of coffee and glanced at the photo of his daughters, framed in silver, on his desk. Sara and Laurel looked so carefree in the picture he almost felt envy, but then reality gripped him and the dominant emotion he was feeling changed. His old friend worry returned. Lance said a silent prayer to the universe to keep them both from harm.

The SCPD had always been busy, even with the Arrow and his team in town, but things were getting worse as far as Lance was concerned. Crime in Starling City over the past decade had been the only growth industry for a small percentage of the population. The city had suffered badly from the fallout of the man-made earthquake that destroyed half the Glades two years ago, and had taken another body blow last year when Slade Wilson's super-strong army had rampaged through the city. Crime organisations, street gangs, and all the petty thieves and wannabe hoodlums on the make that gravitated around the more powerful crime kingpins had flourished in the wake of both disasters.

When Lance opened his eyes he noticed the presence of an officer standing in the open doorway to his office. It was the new Sergeant who had transferred from Central City a couple of months ago; Kate Burrows. Scraping her hair back, wearing trouser suits, and little adornment or make-up, had done nothing to hide the fact that she was, in the words of the precinct's ancient Desk Sergeant, "something of a looker".

"Sergeant, you're here late," said Lance, scanning a lazy eye over the report in from of him.

"That was going to be my opening line sir," said Burrows, who stepped into Lance's office and stood before his desk.

"I guess I haven't had a chance to catch up with you since you arrived, sorry about that," said Lance, closing the buff folder, and leaning back in his chair, "how you been getting on?"

"Good, sir. It's different to Central City, but I like it here. I like the work, and the team," her tone was professional, and much like her outward appearance, stripped of all adornment, "I guess the only thing I'd change would be the weather."

"Yeah I hear it's sunny all the time in Central City," said Lance as he gestured with his hand ahead of him to the window in the room adjacent to his office, which was being pelted with rain. Burrows smiled thinly.

"It's also a little bit dull. I like being busy and useful," she said.

"Well you came highly recommended, so I hope we can keep you busy and useful," said Lance.

"Thank you Captain. Now, at the risk of you giving me an early reprimand, I need to tell you to go home sir," said Burrows seriously, as she straightened herself. Lance looked up at his junior officer and gave her a bemused expression.

"Are you auditioning to be my mother? Only I gotta tell you my daughter's already got that role covered," said Lance.

"Your daughter told me my first week here that if I saw you at your desk past midnight I should, one, tell you to go home and if that didn't work then, two, I should call her. She left me her mobile number," said Burrows pulling a small business card out of the pocket of her trousers, "she was quite insistent."

Lance sighed heavily.

"That sounds like Laurel. Message received Sergeant," said Lance as he raised himself from his chair, grabbed his overcoat from the rack an arm's reach away, and headed for the exit.

"Goodnight Sergeant," said Lance.

"Goodnight sir," said Burrows as she watched Lance's figure sauntering slowly across the open plan office and towards the stairwell exit. Yes, she thought to herself, I like it in Starling City just fine.

After Roy and Diggle had finished at the docks and got the word from Felicity that they could call it a night, Roy was still itching to be active. Often on night's like these, when adrenaline was still coursing through his system and there was no further mission to focus on, he would return to his home in the Glades and take on a mission of his own, patrolling the streets near his apartment. But on these occasions he would be dressed as Roy Harper, resident of the Glades, not Arsenal, member of Team Arrow. Roy was always conscious that he needed to keep his alternate identity and his special abilities secret, so his missions in the Glades were limited to what he could safely do to help by masquerading as an ordinary citizen of Starling City. Roy changed clothes at his apartment, securing his Arsenal suit and weapons in a holdall that he would take back in to "work" the next day.

Harper had been doing these night patrols even before he started working with Team Arrow, but the big difference now was that there was more chance of him hurting the bad guys rather than the other way around. Once upon a time these proto-vigilante sorties had not only resulted in regular bruises but had also incurred the wrath of his then girlfriend Thea Queen. Nowadays he was more likely to inflict physical damage on the thugs and hoodlums in the Glades rather than receiving it himself, and Thea was no longer on his case about his injuries. Some things he missed more than others.

Since the Undertaking the people of this area of Starling City, Roy's home base, had had things tough, and some had turned to crime. There were many who survived by feeding from and into a quasi-black market, which Roy had no problem with in a general sense. People needed to feed and clothe and care their families, and if it wasn't strictly legal then as long as they were only hurting big business that was fine by him. Roy had after all depended on the black market himself once upon a time, and had always lived on the fringes of petty criminal behaviour. Until that was he had met the Arrow and found a new purpose for his life.

There was however a section of criminal activity in the Glades that he would not tolerate, those who would choke the small businesses and the ordinary hard working families of the area. Those who would steal and threaten by force poor people who were just trying to get by. Harper was like an addict that had given up and now proselytised about being clean; Roy wanted to help the people of the Glades to be better and stay better in the face of the daily grind of their existence.

Local initiatives from within the Glades itself had seen investment in gyms to encourage the young and the disinherited to focus their aggression in a practical way through sports; an initiative that Laurel Lance was taking advantage of at Ted Grant's gym in the area. Volunteering organisations and charities, many funded by the trust-fund brigade that Oliver Queen used to hang around with, were starting to have success in providing mentoring for the young and the dispossessed in the area. Along with the work being done by the Arrow and with the consistent vigilance of the SCPD, crime in the Glades had been starting to plateau for the first time in years.

The Vigilante had been a hero to many in the Glades when he first arrived in Starling City, a role model that they claimed as one of their own even though his origins were unknown and his intentions highly questionable. The Arrow, as the Vigilante had come to be known, was looked up to by some in the Glades as a true friend of the poor and the downtrodden, and an example that should be followed. For a few however this close adoration stepped over into dangerous hero-worship, with ordinary men and woman trying to emulate the Arrow on the streets of the Glades after dark. Along with patrolling his streets and trying to stop crime from occurring, Roy saw it as his responsibility to try and reach out to these misguided souls who thought, as he once did, that they could make a difference by using their fists.

This evening was a case in point. As Roy was on his way back to his apartment, his "mission" in the Glades at an end, he spotted a young guy, almost his own age, sneaking down an alley near a bar on South Street. The way the boy moved, hugging the side of the alley wall and slightly crouched as if trying to avoid being detected, gave Roy cause for concern, so he quickly followed him. As the boy edged towards the middle of the alley Roy looked ahead and could see three other young men, all in dark clothing, smoking and huddled against the alley wall near a dumpster. Two had their back to the youngster as he approached them. Roy saw the boy reach behind him and pull a long, thin metal tire lever out of the back of his jeans. He gripped it tightly as he started to approach the small group.

Before the boy could make his move, Roy was behind him, holding him fast with one arm whilst he easily wrestled the tire lever out of his hand. The boy whipped around to face his attacker.

"What the hell are you doing?" hissed the boy.

"Stopping you from making a mistake, and getting a beating," said Roy.

"I can handle myself," seethed the youngster.

Roy pulled the boy back down the alley and away from the three men, who continued smoking and laughing, oblivious to the drama unfolding further down the alley. Once Roy had the boy back on the main street near the bar he roughly let go of his collar, but positioned him so he was looking down the alley towards the group of men he had tried to attack.

"You were outnumbered. At least one of them has a gun, if you'd bothered to look close enough you can see it poking out the back of his jeans. There is no exit out of the alley if they had surrounded you," said Roy calmly but firmly, "No matter what your reason, you went in there badly prepared and you would have faced the consequences."

The boy's eyes blazed with fury, but he breathed out a long sigh and saw the truth of what Roy was telling him. He slowly turned and looked at Harper.

"What's your name?" said Roy.

"Peter Corvelli," said the boy quietly.

"Why were you about to launch a one man war on the streets of Starling Peter Corvelli?" said Roy indicating his head towards the group still huddled down the alley.

"They stole from my mom, they hit her and took her purse," said the boy, his shoulders slumped as his anger started to leave him.

"How do you know it was them?" said Roy.

"I saw them, through the window of the store. I hid. I couldn't do anything, I was…."

"Scared. I know. But this," said Roy holding up the tyre lever, "this isn't the way to handle things. You go to the cops and you tell them what you saw and where they can find these guys and you let them do their job. Your mom wouldn't want you doing this, would she?"

The young man's head briefly moved from side to side indicating a negative reply to the question just posed.

"Go home and look after your mom. She needs you around, not bleeding in an alley, or worse," breathed Roy. The young man looked up briefly at Roy's face and then turned away and started walking back past the bar and along the street, away from trouble.

Roy sighed heavily, and still gripping the tyre lever he turned and headed in the direction of his own apartment. He was finally ready to call it a night.

The mystery woman in the business suit who was planning on putting Starling City to the flame stepped out of the driver's side of a plain black van, parked in an alley alongside a warehouse in an industrial site in the outskirts of the Glades. She had organised for a limited lease of the property through an offshore company; a company financed by the man who had disguised his voice in the telephone call earlier that evening. The woman knew the identity of this man, but she wasn't letting him, or anyone else know this fact. She was an expert at keeping secrets.

The woman looked up and down the dark alley and looked up to scan the rooftops nearby. A couple of working street lights cast a weak phosphorescent orange glow against the back of the van and part of the side wall of the warehouse, but the majority of the lights were broken so the alley was largely in shadow.

Having changed out of her smart dress and high heels and into dark figure-hugging utility wear and a woollen hat, she stepped forward to acknowledge one of the men in black who had been present at the meeting in the downtown office a few hours ago. The night was cold and their exhaled breath mingled in thin clouds of moisture as they faced each other.

"Report," she said perfunctorily.

"As planned. Eyes are on both targets, plans are in place to take them tomorrow night," said the man in black, now wearing full military style clothing including a utility belt and a holstered pistol at his hip. He turned and opened a battered metal door in the side of the warehouse, holding it open for the woman to step through.

Inside the building a dozen men were busy loading weapons, checking radios and other equipment, or looking over surveillance footage on a laptop, or large paper maps of Starling City draped over a trestle table erected in the centre of the cavernous warehouse space. The woman walked over to this table and stood looking at the map, where various points had been marked out within the city environs.

"Do we have all areas covered?" she said, without looking up at her associate.

"Yes. The half payments are all made, our operatives are all in place, equipment and armaments have been double checked. We're good to go."

"Excellent," said the woman finally looking up at the man, "once you have the targets give the order. I want chaos brought to the streets of Starling by midnight tomorrow, is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am," said the man who nodded briefly at the woman. She gave him a level stare in response and then walked back towards the side exit door, stepped through it, and got back into the black van parked outside.

"Are they on schedule?" said a man's voice quietly from the back of the van. The woman did not turn to acknowledge his presence, or even look in her rear view mirror.

"Stay low, I can't be sure we're not being watched," said the woman under her breath, hardly moving her lips. She turned the key in the ignition and the engine fired into life. She depressed the accelerator and drove down the alley leading towards the main road.

"Everything's on course. Now, it's our turn," she said.

**Chapter Four**

The next morning dawned bright but cold. Starling City residents awoke and began a variety of routines that would set them on course to complete another day working, learning, playing, or just plain surviving.

Amongst the commuters, teachers, cops and shop assistants that bustled around that morning heading to work there mingled men with a totally specific and different purpose. Unnoticed by the ordinary residents of Starling these men slipped into positions around the city, in disused buildings, waiting for the order to move, to activate their purpose. These "cells" of operatives, like collapsible electronic circuits, would have only one purpose and once this was achieved they would simply cease to exist, they would vanish as quickly as they had arrived.

During the course of the morning, more than a dozen of these cells, some consisting of two or three men, some only one man strong, would position themselves around the city, with a sizeable proportion of them assigned in and around the Glades. Each cell had its own defined mission, timetable and equipment cache. Although each member had their own personal reason for signing up for this mission, the overriding imperative was financial. They were all being paid very well.

As each cell reached their intended destination across the city and began to establish their positions and plans that morning, the rest of the residents of Starling City went about their ordinary lives completely unaware of the fate that was about to befall them all.

A woman was running through the city streets, pounding music being piped from her mobile phone, strapped to her upper arm, into her ears through her ear pieces. She dodged pedestrians and hopped on and off of pavements to pass those who were in her way, but she obeyed the traffic signs, and jogged on the spot whilst waiting for the lights to change at busy intersections.

As she approached the final stretch of her morning workout she sped up, pushing herself to the limits that her aching muscles could take. She was sweating profusely and puffing for breath, the heat generated by her exertion sending small wisps of steam streaming from her skin in the cold morning air. At the climax of her workout her face contorted into a grimace and she gritted her teeth. Her body and her brain were telling her to stop now, right now, but she was fighting both and she was determined. She would not stop, she would push herself further than she did yesterday, and tomorrow she would push herself even further still. Some might have called it punishment, not exercise.

A few blocks away downtown, Captain Quentin Lance has already attended one early meeting and has dealt with the fallout of a minor infringement committed by one of his young officers. Checking his watch he sighs audibly. The day has hardly started and he is now scheduled in back to back meetings at the DAs office and then the Mayor's office, before he has to return to the pile of paperwork on his desk, and yet more meetings this afternoon. Oh to be a beat cop again he thought.

Lance does a good job no matter what task he assigns himself, but the promotion that he had once__craved as a junior officer in the detective branch of the SCPD was not exactly living up to his expectations now he had achieved it. He isn't quite sure he is making as much of a difference to the people of Starling City by sitting in meetings and ticking boxes on forms.

"Captain, your meeting?" said the young Officer Watson as he popped his head in through the open door to Lance's office, "You asked me to remind you."

"Watson, never get promoted, it's not worth it," sighed Lance as he stood up, reached out to the coat rack near his desk for his jacket and then walked passed the young officer, heading for the exit.

Lance paused on the sidewalk outside the entrance to the precinct and took in a long breath of the cool morning air. The sun was trying to climb out from behind weak cloud cover, and for a second Lance turned his face up to the warmth of its rays, before it disappeared behind cloud again.

Thinking ahead he saw only the possibility of frustration or boredom, or both, in the meetings that lay ahead. To hell with it, he thought, I need a coffee, and he started walking in the opposite direction to the way he needed to go.

The woman runner finally came to a halt, mainly because her body had won the argument and her muscles were now screaming in pain. She stopped suddenly on the sidewalk, and threw herself forward as if she was going to throw up, her hands on her knees and her mind swimming as if she might faint. Her breathing is fast as she desperately tries to gulp down air, her back arching in spasm with every lungful. Slowly she reaches up a hand to her face, checking the watch on her wrist that has been recording her run, the time is good and she smiles. I beat myself she thinks; I beat my time from yesterday. Tomorrow she will set herself a harder target to reach, to test her body and her mind even more than she had this morning.

She slowly raises herself erect, rests both hands on her hips, and smiles as her breathing finally returns to normal. She decides that she deserves a treat for being so good. Spotting a small independent coffee house on the other side of the street, she slides a hand over her blonde hair in its tight pony tail, waits for the traffic lights to change, and then heads towards the shop.

"Java's" is Lance's favourite coffee house, and as a cop he's tried thousands of cups of coffee over the years, so he considers himself to be an expert in this area. The small independently run coffee shop is only a couple of streets away from the precinct he works at, and due to its locality it gets a good flow of police officers, both uniformed and plain clothes, frequenting it. Due to its spectacular pastries and cakes, made the by the wife of the owner, and the quality of the coffee, it also attracts a regular crowd of students, office workers and die-hard coffee fans.

As Lance entered the shop, an aroma of strong coffee wafts across his nose, and he can see that quite a few people have had the same idea as him this morning, as the queue ahead of him is at least half a dozen people long. Lance should turn around right now and head straight for his meeting with the DA about the efficiency of data gathering amongst SCPD officers for the last quarter. But as he stands at the back of the queue and breathes in lungful after lungful of the potent aroma circulating around him, he knows full well that he will wait in line to get his coffee and turn up late to his meeting.

Lance's keen eyes, used to observing anything and everything, drift around the shop, taking in the clientele, the baristas at their work, and the shape of the woman clad head to toe in skin-tight running gear two people in front of him in the queue.

"Hey Mr Lance," said a cheerful voice that rose above the general hubbub of the shop. Lance immediately snapped out of his perusal of the shapely blonde woman and looked up to see the manager of the shop waving at him from behind the counter.

"Hey," said Lance in reply, holding up a hand, palm out, in greeting.

Lance and the Manager go way back, to when Java's first opened, and coincidentally when the guy's son got caught for shoplifting and was arrested by a very junior detective called Quentin Lance. At that time many officers would have just processed the boy and sent him through the court system, but Lance took the time to talk to the boy, and ended up persuading the store owner who he'd robbed to drop the charges if the boy worked for him for free for a short period.

Having learned his lesson the boy sorted himself out and was now the owner of a store himself. The boy's father had sworn to Lance that he'd never have to pay for a coffee or a pastry ever again, but being the straight up and straight down cop that he was Lance managed to pay for the majority of his beverages. Though he loved this coffee shop, Lance tried not to drop by too often so he didn't have to go through the same fuss every time he fancied paying for a caffeine fix.

Three people at the head of the queue had been served, and the woman runner was about to place her order, when the Manager walked behind the counter and spoke to the barista the jogger was about to address. Some words were spoken, the barista turned to start making a latte, and when it was done, handed it to the Manager, who walked out from behind the counter and skirted past the woman runner to hand Lance his take out coffee.

"On the house Mr Lance, please," said the Manager.

"Tony, I keep telling you, I won't hear it. Here," said Lance, holding out a bill quite forcefully and pushing it into the Manager's hand. The two men smiled tightly at each other and reached an unspoken understanding with their eyes.

"Tony, phone," yelled a voice from behind the counter.

"I gotta go. Have a good day Mr Lance," he said, and disappeared through a doorway behind the counter.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that good manners cost nothing," said a female voice near Lance. He looked to his left to see the woman runner whose tight outfit he had noticed only moments earlier throwing him a look of defiance. She flashed a further look of contempt at him and then turned her back on him to finally place her order at the counter.

Lance, feeling a little embarrassed from the fuss caused by the Manager making him jump the queue, gripped hold of his coffee carton and excited the shop. As he started walking towards the meeting he was now late for he couldn't help but acknowledge that the woman runner was as arresting from the front as she was from behind.

In the secret basement lair underneath the disused Foundry building once owned by Queen Consolidated, the male portion of Team Arrow were an hour into their regular training programme.

Oliver, Roy and John were all feeling satisfied with the recent successes against curtailing organised crime in Starling City, particularly in destroying the Markov organisation that had brought nothing but fear and violence to the residents of Starling. Their training session reflected their positive spirits with plenty of banter flowing amidst all the fighting.

At the end of the session, as Roy and Diggle were taking on some water and catching their breath, Oliver announced that everyone should have the night off. Roy looked at Diggle for reassurance before he looked at Oliver.

"A night off?" said Roy, somewhat bemused.

"Yeah, you know like a holiday," said Diggle deadpan, "you do know what a holiday is?"

"I do," said Roy sarcastically pointing at Oliver, "but I didn't realise he did."

Oliver grinned a short tight smile as he walked over to Roy and Diggle, who were leaning on steel workbenches in the central rectangle of the Arrow cave.

"The Markov organisation is history. There's nothing on our radar that needs immediate attention. So, in light of the fact that we've all been putting in the extra hours just recently, I think we deserve a night off," said Oliver.

"Well I for one won't argue," said Diggle.

"Me neither," said Roy, already thinking ahead to the patrol of the Glades he would "treat" himself to later.

"Good," said Oliver looking at Roy, "so go, make sure you rest up. Its business as usual tomorrow night and I need you at your best."

Minutes later Roy had left Oliver and John in the basement under Verdant nightclub and was heading back to his apartment, a shower and something to eat. Back in the Arrow cave, John was doing his usual check of their specialised equipment as Oliver came back from his post-work out shower.

"We're short on a few items. I'm going to head over to ARGUS to give Lyla the good news about my night off and maybe persuade her to replenish our stock. What are _you_ going to do with yourself for the rest of the day?" said John as he checked the last of the handguns in the steel cabinet in front of him.

"You're saying that like I don't know how to relax," said Oliver, pacing about.

"You don't know how to relax," said John.

Oliver stopped pacing and looked over to Diggle, and threw him a glance.

"I thought I'd go out to dinner," said Oliver tentatively, "I also thought I'd ask Felicity if she like to do the same thing."

John took in the import of this sentence, closed the drawer of the steel cabinet before him and turned to face Oliver.

"Judging by your last attempt to take Felicity to dinner, do I need to phone restaurants in Starling to warn them about possible rocket grenade attacks?" said John his eyes dancing with humour.

"Funny." said Oliver with a look that obviously inclined the opposite emotion, "I thought I would cook instead."

"You? Cook? So it wasn't all fighting and learning how to shoot arrows on that island then, you learned some useful skills too," said John.

"Actually a woman in Hong Kong taught me how to cook," said Oliver, walking over to the metal chair where he had left his tan coloured jacket.

"Don't tell me, she was beautiful and strong and taught you how to use cutlery as weapons," said Diggle sarcastically.

"Yes she was beautiful, and yes she was very strong, and no she didn't teach me how to fight with cutlery. But she did teach me the right thing to do in a kitchen," said Oliver as he slipped on his jacket.

"I'm glad. For Felicity's sake anyway," said John lightly, before he became more serious, "and I'm glad you're trying again with her."

Oliver paused, bit down on his lip and sighed.

"I said some things to her after our last date turned into a disaster, and then after Sara died, things that I believed at the time, and I pulled away, and I know I hurt her," said Oliver softly.

"It was a bad time Oliver. We all say and do things in bad times that we regret," said John sympathetically.

"I just hope she's willing to give me another chance," said Oliver softly.

"I hope so too man, but you're not gonna know unless you go and ask her," said John, who walked over and patted Oliver on the arm before heading towards the rear exit to the Arrow cave.

As always over the past few weeks, whenever he found himself alone Oliver's thoughts turned to the loss of Sara. His former lover's killer was still out there somewhere. Felicity's tech friends in Central City would hopefully have news soon on the results of a blood sample analysis that had been sent to them, but until then all he and the rest of Sara's friends in Team Arrow could do was wait; and remember her.

One of the last things that Sara had said to him was that she believed people who wore masks, like she and Oliver did, needed people in their lives who didn't wear them. As Oliver Queen climbed the metal stairs leading up into a side entrance of Verdant nightclub, he was hoping that Felicity Smoak would think the same thing too.

In the semi-derelict building opposite Verdant, Oliver Queen's assigned "watcher" saw him leave the nightclub and head towards the motorbike that was parked up on the raised ramp by the entrance. Oliver donned his cycle helmet, and gunned the bike to life, setting off down the alley by the side of Verdant that lead out on to the main street. The watcher fired off a few shots with the camera pointing its telescopic lens in Queen's direction and then picked up his short range walkie talkie device and reported in to his control.

"This is Site One. Target One is on the move."

Twenty minutes later, Oliver parked his motorcycle in the basement of his sister's apartment building, and caught the elevator up to her loft apartment, with its spectacular views overlooking Starling City. As Oliver used his key and entered the apartment there was a pleasant smell wafting through from the open plan kitchen.

"Will pancakes do?" said Thea as she busied herself by the hob.

"For lunch?" said Oliver slightly amused.

"Hey, its breakfast for me remember?" said Thea, sipping some freshly pressed orange juice.

"Pancakes will be fine," said Oliver walking over to the kitchen area and taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

Thea dished up several pancakes on to two plates, a bowl of some chopped fruit, fresh juice and coffee, and the two siblings started eating.

The secret criminal cells that are to bring chaos to the streets of Starling City are all in place. To begin with a series of small events has been planned that will commence in a co-ordinated fashion across the city, but in such a way that it will not raise alarm bells. Low level trained operatives will commit robberies or start small fires or cause a public disturbance in a localised way. And every mission that each cell successfully completes will be reported back to their command and control headquarters in the rented warehouse in the Glades, where the response times of the local police will be monitored closely. A watch will also be maintained on local news reports and social media updates for responses to the attacks – the real "word on the street" response to the attacks will come through these sources quicker than it will from local government.

Once the series of missions embarked upon by these cells is ramped up, the orchestrated nature of all the attacks happening simultaneously will place a huge strain on the emergency services and the SCPD across Starling.

As the citizens of Starling headed into their afternoon activities, they were blissfully aware of the danger that lay ahead.

In Thea Queen's loft apartment, Oliver puffed out a breath and pushed his dinner plate away from him.

"More?" said Thea

"No, thanks, I think six is my limit," said Oliver holding a fist up to his mouth and pushing down a belch.

"You've changed. You used to be able to eat at least eight when mom made her special occasion pancakes. I guess I don't cook them the same way," said Thea, biting down another mouthful.

"You cook just fine. Sorry, I'm just not that hungry today," said Oliver, smiling at his sister.

"Something on your mind?" said Thea, lifting her glass to her mouth to sip at some juice.

Oliver allowed a small tight grin to spread across his mouth, and inclined his head slightly.

"Ollie, you disappear and I don't know where you go, then when you come back you have this look on your face like you have the world on your shoulders. I worry about you, I worry that you're not happy. What is it? Tell me," said Thea softly, leaning towards her brother.

"Nothing you need to worry about. I'm sorry I keep disappearing, I've just had a lot on recently, but hopefully that is coming to an end. I've organised for some of my stuff to be brought over here, so I hope we can do this more often," said Oliver, reaching out to pat his sister's hand, "although it doesn't always have to be pancakes."

"OK. I'll leave the offer open though. If you need to talk about anything, no matter what, you can come to me, OK?"

"When did you get so wise?" said Oliver standing up.

"Oh _I've_ always been wise, you were never wise enough to notice," said Thea, grinning up at her brother.

"Thanks for lunch, I gotta go," said Oliver, who bent to kiss the top of Thea's head, before turning and walking towards the front door.

Oliver Queen's watcher had handed over the monitoring of his target to a mobile unit of two other men in a nondescript unmarked white van when Queen had left Verdant on his motorbike. Unable to get close enough to the target whilst Oliver was in Thea Queen's loft apartment the mobile watchers waited secretly and patiently a few feet away from the entrance to the basement garage of the building for his return.

Once Oliver Queen was back on his motorcycle, the mobile unit started tailing him to the next location, looking for the prime opportunity to snatch Oliver Queen off of the streets of Starling. The clock was ticking and they only had until that evening to kidnap him.

As the motorcycle that Oliver was riding slowed to a halt outside the offices of Palmer Technology in downtown Starling, the mobile unit drove past and took the next turning. One of the men leaped out of the vehicle and headed back to tail Oliver on foot as he walked across the wide paved area outside the building. Oliver stepped into the glass fronted foyer of the former headquarters of Queen Consolidated, now renamed in honour of its new owner, Dr Ray Palmer, and headed for the elevator.

Whilst Oliver was having breakfast masquerading as lunch, Felicity Smoak was trying to solve a particularly complicated technological issue for the CEO of Palmer Technology, Ray Palmer. Ever since Felicity had started working for Ray he had been bringing her random, tricky, and interesting technological conundrums for her to resolve. If Felicity had more time in her day she might have started to see a pattern forming amongst all the seemingly bizarre IT issues that Ray brought to her, and she may have been concerned by that pattern, but as it was she was just happy to be able to lend her assistance and crack on with the next task in hand.

Felicity's fingers tapped across her keyboard, her eyes scanned both monitors on her desk, and at one point she had her phone balanced between her ear and her shoulder as she received and then relayed information to the Palmer Technology Applied Science Division building fifteen minutes' drive away.

Though he bounced around his own office, and the building in general, liked a coiled spring most of the time, this afternoon Ray seemed content to mooch around in Felicity's office as she attempted to solve a problem with his file server and its ability to co-ordinate multiple software systems. Palmer stopped his random slow pace of Felicity's office and stood looking out of the window at the vista of downtown Starling City it overlooked.

"You know, Oliver Queen has a lot to answer for. I mean he almost bankrupted his own company and could have forced hundreds of people out of work. Not to mention all the advances that were lost through the Applied Sciences Division being mismanaged, and then blown up. It's almost like he didn't care."

"He does care!" yelled Felicity before lowering her tone, "Sorry."

"I understand, he's your friend, but you have to admit what we're doing now is better for this company and the people that work here," said Ray in a reasoned tone, walking towards Felicity's desk.

Felicity could not bring herself to verbalise her answer to this statement because she cannot believe that she agrees with Ray Palmer. He is the better businessman and he can devote the right amount of time and energy to the company; time and energy that Oliver cannot spare for an important reason, a reason she cannot share with her new boss.

"But now that Mr Queen's former company is in better hands he now has the time to go and do what it is that he does best," said Ray smiling then frowning, "What is that by the way?"

"Oh, he…." said Felicity tipping her head to one side, "volunteers a lot."

"Oh. Very commendable," said Ray clapping his hands together once, "I need coffee. Don't worry I'm not going to ask you to get me one. I remember the whole coffee embargo thing from your first day. Would you like one?"

"Yes, thanks," said Felicity, smiling briefly at Ray before he turned and disappeared out of her office.

"Oh and he saves the city on a nightly basis," whispered Felicity to herself, rolling her eyes.

At the SCPD precinct where Quentin Lance worked there was a guest in Lance's office when he returned from his inevitably boring and frustrating back to back meetings at the Mayor's and then the DA's offices. Lance could feel the tension of the morning tighten in the base of his neck. He knew he had a stack of paperwork to go through on his desk and even more meetings to attend this afternoon. The thought was depressing him.

Lance could see through the open door to his office that a woman was sitting in the chair opposite his desk, her back to him, her blonde hair pulled up into a tight and professional looking chignon. Lance looked over at a uniformed officer and indicated with his head towards his office. The young cop shrugged his shoulders in reply, obviously none the wiser as to the name or purpose of the visitor in Lance's office. Lance was guessing she was something official, or else she wouldn't have got this far into SCPD headquarters. He sighed and hoped it wasn't an auditor or an accountant, as he'd just sat with a bunch of them in his morning meetings.

Lance didn't have another meeting for at least an hour, so he wondered what kind of surprise the woman in his office was about to spring on him as he headed in her direction. Lance edged around his desk, and looked at the face of the woman, who rose from her chair at his arrival and started to reach out a hand in greeting. Once she had looked into Lance's face however her hand hovered in mid-air and didn't fully extend itself towards Lance.

The pair of them had already met that morning, in Java's when Lance had jumped the queue, courtesy of the shop's manager, and she had made a barbed comment at him. Lance remembered how he had admired her shape in her tight running clothing, and thought she also looked quite nice in a smart business suit, before he cleared his throat, embarrassed by his own thoughts.

"You," she said coolly and let her hand fall back to her side without it having been shaken by Lance.

"And you," said Lance.

"Captain Lance, I'm Special Agent Kate Morgan, assigned to the Unified Taskforce Against Organised Crime," said the woman commandingly.

"Pleased to meet you," said Lance holding out his hand in greeting. There was a beat of perhaps two or three seconds where Lance stood with his hand outstretched before she slowly raised her own hand to shake his quite firmly.

"How can I help you Special Agent Morgan?" said Lance, as he slipped off his jacket, deposited it on the coat rack to the right of his desk, and sat himself down facing the woman.

"It may be more a case of how I can help you Captain," she said sitting herself back in her chair and crossing her legs, "I've been tasked by a joint FBI and Homeland Security committee to assist local law enforcement in selected cities in combatting existing, and preventing the rise of new, crime syndicates."

"Sounds like you've got quite a job on there," said Lance with a degree of flippancy in his tone.

"You find battling against organised gangs bringing death and destruction to the streets of our cities a source of levity Captain?" she said archly, her eyes cold and her expression disapproving.

"Not one bit Special Agent Morgan, but I say again, how canI help you?" said Lance, leaning forward in his chair and resting his forearms on his desk, meshing his fingers before him.

"Starling City has been identified as one of the first cities to benefit from this new initiative. I have been sent here to assist the SCPD to co-ordinate the approach that needs to be taken," said the woman, giving Lance an even stare.

"Co-ordinate the approach?" said Lance, raising an eyebrow, "you mean you are going to highjack my department and start ordering my officers around?"

"Co-operation is desirable….," said Morgan smoothly.

"Oh but not essential, is that what you're trying to say?" said Lance his voice starting to gain an edge to its tone.

The woman sighed briefly and then leant over to her right and dipped a hand into a soft leather document case that was leaning against the chair she was sitting on. She withdrew some sheets of paper, with an official seal embossed on the top, and then leant forward towards Lance's desk and place the document on the surface. She then stood up, picking up the document case as she did so.

"That will explain the purpose of my visit here today, the remit of the national initiative, and your responsibility to its success. This has been cleared with your superiors, the local DA's office and the Mayor of Starling is fully on board. Make no mistake Captain Lance, I have the power to order your officers around as you so succinctly put it," said the woman as she turned and stepped towards the open doorway of Lance's office, where she paused and turned back to face him, "but I hope you won't make me do that."

The woman turned on her heel and walked out of Lance's office and across the adjacent open plan office area towards the stairwell exit.

"I don't think anyone could make _you_ do anything," muttered Lance under his breath as he reached for the document and started reading.

As Oliver Queen walked into the former corner office of the building that he had once occupied as CEO of Queen Consolidated, he caught sight of its new owner, Felicity Smoak, and he paused for a breath before walking forward.

Felicity was as usual engrossed and focussed by the data flowing across her computer monitor, so engrossed in fact that she didn't notice that Oliver was in her office until he was almost at her desk. With every step Oliver took towards Felicity he grew more nervous about the question he wanted to ask her. Since she had started working for Palmer Technology, Oliver's visits to her office had been few and far between, so Felicity's initial reaction was one of concern at his presence, and from the look on his face he had something serious to tell her.

The combination of shock, concern and nervousness being experienced by both parties present resulted in both Oliver and Felicity speaking over the top of each other.

"Hey," said Oliver, "Busy?"

"Hey. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I was hoping to speak to you about something. Do you have a minute?" said Oliver gesturing towards Felicity's office door, indicating that they should take a walk.

"Sure," said Felicity, who tapped a few buttons on her keyboard, locking the device, and scooped up her mobile phone as she stood up and walked around her desk towards Oliver.

"You'll need your coat," said Oliver softly. Felicity threw him a quick curious gesture, and then walked over to the coat rack behind her to the left and picked up her overcoat.

As the pair of them stepped out of Felicity's office, Ray was just approaching with two coffee cartons. There was an awkward moment when all three stood staring at each other, before Felicity reached out to take one of the cartons from Ray's hand.

"Thanks," said Felicity briskly, "we need, I need to have a word with Oliver. Back soon."

"Sure…" said Ray as he watched Oliver and Felicity head towards the elevators.

Two minutes later and the pair of them stepped out on to the roof of Palmer Technology.

The two-man mobile unit following Laurel Lance was having as much trouble trying to lift its target off of the streets of Starling City as the team following Oliver Queen. Laurel worked in a busy office in the DAs department with tens of people milling about. Apart from a short break when she walked to the department cafeteria to buy a sandwich, she was either at her desk or in meetings, and surrounded by colleagues at all times.

Laurel's watchers had decided their best option was to grab her when she was heading home at the end of the working day, and to that end they waited patiently in their unmarked van parked across from her building, taking it in turns to step out and perform recognisance to confirm her continued presence in the building.

High above the busy streets of Starling City, Felicity buttoned up her coat against the cold wind blowing across the rooftop of the Palmer Technology building.

"And there's me thinking you only had a thing for rooftops at night," she deadpanned.

"I didn't want to cause you any trouble by talking to you in your office," said Oliver.

"Talking to me about what?" said Felicity, scooping a stray hair behind her ear.

"I'm giving everyone the night off tonight," said Oliver slipping his hands into his pockets.

"You could have just phoned me to tell me that," said Felicity, a curious expression on her face.

"I could have, but I wanted to ask you something else as well," said Oliver stepping forward towards Felicity so that he didn't have to raise his voice too much against the wind.

"What?"

"I was thinking, that as we both have the night off, that we could, I mean if you wanted to, we could..," Oliver stopped, paused for breath, and smiled briefly at his own inadequacy to construct a sentence. He then looked directly at a bemused Felicity and grinned nervously and said, "Let's have dinner."

"Oh, yes, lets," said Felicity as she raised her eyebrows, and firmly pushed her glasses back into place.

Oliver looked at her uncertainly.

"You don't think it's a good idea?"

Felicity suddenly realised from his expression that Oliver was not teasing her, and was serious in his offer to try another dinner date. Felicity moved a step towards Oliver and began using her hands to accentuate a variety of expressions on her face as she stammered a reply.

"No! I mean Yes! Of course it's a good idea. I was just remembering the last time you asked me to dinner. You know the whole feeling awkward and the restaurant blowing up, us nearly dying before the main course had arrived, and then you deciding you couldn't go through with the whole us being together thing."

"I wasn't thinking we'd go out to eat. I thought we'd stay in."

"At the Arrow cave?" said Felicity uncertainly, as due to the setbacks incurred after Oliver had lost his company he was using their night time base of operations as his current home.

"Well that place is lacking a few home comforts, and a kitchen, how about your place?"

"Mine?"

"You have a kitchen right?"

"Of course I have a kitchen, with a sink and an oven and stuff like that. Sure, mine it is. Yup," said Felicity taking a step away from Oliver.

"Felicity you seem a bit hesitant, if you're not….," started Oliver, but he was cut off from finishing the sentence by Felicity blurting out a retort.

"I want to! Sorry, far too eager. What I meant to say was I would love to have dinner with you at my place, it's just I need you to know something first…which is a bit awkward…"

In the pause that followed Felicity struggled to voice the issue that she was feeling awkward about, and Oliver was mystified what the awkwardness could be. Oliver looked down at his feet and then up at Felicity and thought he knew what her predicament was. Instantly he felt he needed to address this unspoken issue and so stepped forward, his hands open and towards her.

"Look I didn't mean to imply anything about coming to your apartment…"

Felicity was momentarily confused by this sentence but then suddenly realised what Oliver was trying to say and became openly embarrassed as she realised what Oliver must be thinking.

"No! God, really too eager that time…3, 2,1. I didn't think you were implying anything by offering to come over to my place."

"Then what is it?" said Oliver, his brows knitting.

"I can't cook," said Felicity quietly.

"What?"

"I can't cook. It's not a skill I picked up. My Mom wasn't that kind of Mom. I burn toast; I'd end up giving you food poisoning or something…"

Oliver gave a brief relieved smile that the issue wasn't something more serious.

"Don't worry, I'll cook."

"You cook too," said Felicity matter-of-factly, "Of course you do."

"Five years trying to survive by myself taught me a few useful skills."

Felicity gave Oliver a curious look at hearing this last sentence.

"What's the matter?" said Oliver.

"We're not going to have like road kill or some weird grass salad are we?"

"Well that is my speciality, but I realise it's not to everyone's taste. Chinese?"

Felicity grinned and nodded her head, signalling her acceptance to dinner with Oliver, and of Chinese as the choice.

"Great. I'll go and buy what I need for dinner and I'll meet you after work," said Oliver who then turned and walked towards the roof exit. On the way down to the ground floor in the elevator Oliver Queen couldn't quite contain a smile that spread across his mouth.

The mobile unit tailing Oliver Queen had no idea what their target had been doing in the building, so they were unaware of the dinner date Oliver had made that evening with Felicity Smoak. Security was tight in the Palmer Technology headquarters, so neither man had been able to gain access to the upper executive floors. Their essential remit was to remain unobserved so as not to alert their target, so the two man crew stalking Oliver Queen decided that biding their time until he re-emerged from Palmer's was their best course of action.

Little did either man know that the very date that Oliver Queen had just set up with his former Executive Assistant would be the ideal attacking opportunity they had been waiting for.

**Chapter Five**

Back at the SCPD headquarters precinct Captain Quentin Lance was starting to get eye strain from working his way through the paper mountain on his desk. Lance leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, making a short guttural noise as he stretched his back muscles, which instantly reacted to being hunched over a desk for the last hour.

Lance closed yet another foolscap paper folder, placed it on a pile to his left and reached for a new folder from the pile to his right. As he opened the folder his desk phone started ringing. Lance snatched at it, praying for news of some diversion that would signal the end to his paper nightmare.

"Lance," he barked into the phone receiver.

"Good afternoon Captain, its Special Agent Morgan,"

"If you're checking up to see if I've read through the document you left, you're a little premature, I've got a stack of papers in the queue ahead of that," said Lance defensively, knowing full well that he had already read the document the Agent had dropped on his desk the moment she had left his office earlier.

"Captain, we got off on the wrong foot, and then carried on walking the wrong way," said the woman.

"I guess we did," said Lance, leaning back in his office chair.

"So I was thinking why don't we start again, on the right foot?"

"Fine by me," said Lance, looking up at the ceiling of his office and gently swivelling his chair from side to side with his feet pushing against the side of the desk.

"So, let me buy you dinner, tonight," said the woman.

Lance jarred his foot against the desk, and slipped in his chair, almost losing hold of the phone receiver clamped to his ear.

"What?" he said once he had righted himself in his chair.

"I'm offering an olive branch. We want the same things Captain and we'll need to work together in order to get them. You know this city, and I need to be educated about it, so it's not entirely an offer without strings. What do you say?"

"Err. Well, I," said Lance falling over his thoughts and his words," You really don't have to do this."

"I know, but I am. I aim on grilling you about everything you know about Starling City, I'm going to make you work for your dinner," said Morgan, a touch of light humour in her tone.

"It's just….," said Lance, still nonplussed by the unexpected offer.

"Just?"

"I guess I'm a bit old fashioned about these things," said Lance rubbing a hand over his forehead in his awkwardness at the turn of the conversation.

"Well I don't want to make you feel awkward. Why don't we agree to go Dutch?"

"That I can agree to," said Lance.

"Fine. Eight o'clock tonight, I'll make a reservation. Do you have a recommendation?"

"Romano's on Brewer Street is pretty good, if you like Italian."

"I do. Romano's it is. I'll see you there Captain," said Morgan who ended the call before saying goodbye or waiting for Lance to say it.

A few blocks away from the offices where Assistant DA Laurel Lance works was a supermarket that she favoured using that was on her route home. Laurel had run short of a few items so she decided to head to the supermarket after one of her meetings had been cancelled and she found herself with a spare hour. Going to the supermarket now would mean that she could go to the Wildcat Gym for her boxing session straight after work.

Laurel leaving the confines of her office presented an ideal opportunity for the mobile unit that was stalking her with a view to kidnapping her, or it would have presented an ideal opportunity but for the fact that at the last moment a couple of her colleagues decided to accompany her as they wanted to pick up a cake for a birthday being celebrated by one of the DAs team. As Laurel entered the supermarket, one of the two-man watch team followed her into the store.

A minute later, Oliver Queen pulled up outside the store on his motorcycle. Slipping off his helmet and leaving it on the pillion seat he stepped inside the supermarket. The van with his two-man watch team pulled over to the opposite side of the street and one of the men got out, intending to cross the street and enter the store after their target.

"Unit One, hold your position, do not approach Target One," came a voice in the Bluetooth devices in the ears of both men. It was the stern voice of Command HQ.

"Is there a problem?" said the man who had exited the van. He slipped back into his seat in the parked vehicle.

"Unit Two has a man inside the store. Target Two is inside," said Command, "Unit Two, pick up observation of both targets."

"Roger that," whispered the man who had followed Laurel into the store. He looked up over a freezer aisle and saw that Oliver Queen was walking up an aisle carrying a plastic shopping basket.

The watcher, also holding a shopping basket into which he randomly placed items, pulled back to a position where he could see both targets walking up adjacent aisles from each other.

A few minutes later, Oliver sensed something was wrong, and from the corner of his eye he caught someone looking at him. He looked up suddenly to see a couple of giggling schoolgirls taking a mobile photo of him, before they scuttled away. Then Laurel Lance turned the corner of the aisle as the girls were running away.

"I guess watching a billionaire doing his own grocery shopping is still newsworthy," said Laurel smiling.

"Former billionaire," said Oliver, "Hi."

"Hi," said Laurel looking down to appraise the selection in Oliver's basket. "How times change. I used to know a guy who didn't even know where the kitchen was in his mansion, and now you know how to combine these things into something you can eat?"

"I guess there was one good thing to say about being stranded on an island for five years."

Laurel reached to the basket Oliver and retrieved a bottle.

"Champagne? Special occasion or someone special?" she said, arching an eyebrow.

Oliver reached out a hand and took the bottle back from Laurel and placed it in his basket, his expression sheepish and awkward.

"Oh I know that look, someone special then?" said Laurel.

"I'm having dinner with Felicity," said Oliver quietly.

"Oh," said Laurel, somewhat taken aback, "Well, I hope you have a nice time. I have to get back to work, bye."

"Bye."

Oliver watched Laurel as she headed towards the checkout tills with her own basket of items. He waited at least five minutes more than he needed to before he went and purchased his own groceries. Oliver was not aware that the man who had been tailing himself and Laurel around the store had heard their conversation, or that the same man followed Laurel out of the store and back to her office.

Late afternoon found Laurel Lance walking through the open plan office area near her father's office cubicle at SCPD headquarters in Starling City. Her job with the DAs office meant that she was a frequent visitor to her father's place of work, but she didn't always see him when she did drop by. Captain Lance's team were used to the fiery and efficient Assistant District Attorney appearing and demanding case file after case file, report after report, at all hours. They were all mindful of her position and her profession, but they were also very mindful of the fact that Laurel was Captain Lance's daughter, so they were careful how they spoke to her no matter how onerous or inconvenient her request was.

This afternoon Lance was in his office as Laurel strode in, her briefcase still full of reports and affidavits from a visit to the Starling City Court House a couple of days ago. Laurel briefly glanced in the direction of her father's office, before heading over to the desk of a uniformed officer over near the water cooler at the opposite end of the room.

Lance looked up from his paperwork and saw his daughter crossing the office and speaking to one of his officers. He was uncertain whether he should walk over and talk to her, their conversation of the previous night still awkwardly fresh in his mind.

Laurel must have been feeling the same thing, for after she had finished talking to the uniformed cop she turned and started to head out of the room, before pausing, chewing her lip slightly, and then turning back again to head towards her father's office. The wooden door with the half glass view was open and she stood in the doorway, uncertain of the reaction she might get.

Lance leaned back in his chair, and knitted his hands over his stomach.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," replied Laurel in a similar tone before entering the office and taking a few steps towards her father's desk.

"You look busy," Laurel said indicating with her eyes towards the mounds of folders on Lance's desk.

"Yeah," sighed Lance, "Apart from not getting out on the streets as much as I'd like, it's another downside to getting a promotion. I wish I had half the patience with paperwork that you and your mother always seemed to have."

Lance leant forward on his desk, flipped a folder closed and dumped it unceremoniously on a pile to his left. Laurel screwed out a small wry smile. Oh Dad, she thought, if you only knew I would give anything to be out on the streets fighting crime and not sitting at a desk pushing paperwork. We are more similar than you think.

Laurel moved closer to her father's desk, and sat down at the seat opposite him, putting her briefcase down by her side.

"Listen Dad….," she started to say but was interrupted by her father speaking at the same time.

"Listen Laurel….," said Lance over the top of his daughter's opening words.

The pair smiled at each other, their eyes warmly signalling their rapprochement. Their heated exchange from last night in Ted's gym was not forgotten, and there were plenty of underlying issues that they probably needed to discuss, but for now they were just happy to be on good speaking terms again.

It was always the way with the Lance family. You could hold a grudge for ages, or keep an old resentment bubbling under the surface for years, but at the end of the day they all loved each other. Laurel felt a twinge of anxiety for her father because she knew that he would never have the ability to argue and then make up with his other daughter, Sara, ever again – and it was this secret knowledge that sent a shiver of ice through Laurel's heart a she looked at her father.

Lance must have sensed something because he stood up and walked around to the other side of his desk and perched on it, looking down at Laurel.

"Hey, are you OK?" said Lance, a note of concern in his tone.

"Yes, I'm fine," said Laurel trying to forcefully brighten her response, she looked up at her father and smiled, "how are things here?"

"Busy as always," said Lance.

"I hear you have a new Sergeant, from Central City," said Laurel, leaning back in her chair.

"Now why would that news interest the DAs office?" said Lance.

"It doesn't, but it does interest your Desk Sergeant downstairs, who made a point of telling me about her," said Laurel archly, "I believe he called her a sweet hottie."

"Sergeant Burrows is her name, and she's good at her job and comes highly recommended by her former boss," said Lance firmly, "and it looks like I need to talk to my Desk Sergeant about updating his political correctness training."

"Is she? A hottie?"

"Laurel, I'm her boss, I don't know," stumbled Lance trying to avoid answering the question, "I do know she runs rings around half my officers, knows the law like the back of her hand, and may one day take my job if she carries on catching bad guys at the rate she has been."

Lance stood up and walked back around his desk to sit in his desk chair. Laurel smiled at her father's evident embarrassment and reached down to grab hold of her briefcase before standing.

"Hey do you fancy dinner later?" said Laurel.

"Err I'd love to but…."

"Do not say you have to work late doing paperwork, because I will not take that as convincing evidence of a reason to cancel on me," said Laurel in her professional legal voice, "eight o'clock OK at mine?"

"Err, no, sweetheart, I can't I'm already going out to dinner with someone," said Lance almost mumbling his words.

"What like a date?" said a surprised Laurel Lance.

"No, it's more of a work thing with this woman, I mean Special Agent, that I'll be working with on a new task force," said Lance trying to sound nonchalant, but failing.

"Oh, I see," said Laurel mischievously, "is that the good looking woman with the blonde hair and the tight skirt that came to your office earlier?"

Lance threw a questioning look at his daughter, wondering how on earth she could know that. Laurel gave him a tight lipped smile, trying to suffuse her laughter, and pointed her finger towards the floor indicating that her knowledge came from the same source downstairs that had provided the information about the new Sergeant.

Lance stood up and steered his daughter out of his office.

"How about we grab a coffee," said Lance as the pair walked towards the stairwell exit of the open plan office, "I just need to have a quick word with my Desk Sergeant on the way."

At Java's, the independent coffee shop that Lance favoured, Quentin Lance sat across a small wooden table from his daughter and sipped at his latte.

"So, what are going to wear later, your date suit?" said Laurel, hiding a smile as she sipped at her coffee.

"Will you cut it out," said Lance "I don't even know if that thing even fits me anymore."

"Oh so you were thinking of wearing it. I thought this was just a work thing?" said his daughter, raising an eyebrow.

"It is," said Lance firmly, "anyway I'm too old for dates."

"You're not old."

"Well I sure as hell feel like it sometimes," muttered Lance, taking another sip from his mug.

Laurel, having just run in to Oliver Queen, her former boyfriend, preparing to go on a date of his own, thought about their earlier conversation in the supermarket. She also thought about the developing relationship she was experiencing with Ted Grant.

"Mom moved on, maybe it's time you did too," said Laurel gently.

"Before it's too late you mean," said Lance with a hint of sarcasm.

"No that's not what I mean. I want to see you happy and I know you haven't been, not for a long time. We all went through hell when Sara and Oliver disappeared on to that damn boat. It's time we both put that behind us and got on with our lives," said Laurel, "we deserve to be happy."

Father and daughter looked at each other warmly and sipped their coffee in companionable silence.

Oliver returned to the basement hideout under Verdant nightclub carrying a large brown bag of groceries, and dumped it on the steel workbench nearest where Diggle was working to replenish their equipment. John had been able to persuade Lyla to part with one or two items from her well stocked ARGUS stores, although he had the definite impression that it wasn't so much a gift to Team Arrow as a down payment for future services to be rendered.

Diggle looked up briefly and saw that Oliver was pacing about. He gave more attention to his friends face and read in it an expression that from past experience meant that Oliver was having a hard time processing something.

"I guess it takes a while for a billionaire to get used to a doing his own food shopping," quipped Diggle. "Or is there something else causing that look on your face?"

"I ran into Laurel," said Oliver quietly.

"Oh. I take it she knows about your evening plans," said Diggle.

"Yeah. It was…awkward," said Oliver stretching out the sentence.

"Having second thoughts?"

"No," said Oliver with calm determination.

"Then pick up that bag and get going. You're wasting time," said Diggle with soft insistence.

Oliver nodded his head and walked over to where he had left the grocery bag full of food.

"I need a shower and a change of clothes first," said Oliver as he headed towards his personal space at the rear of the Arrow cave, "Digs what would I do without you?"

Diggle turned attention back to his gun cleaning, "Talk to yourself probably," he muttered.

Oliver smiled a tight smile as he headed towards the shower cubicle, his acute hearing having picked up John's last comment.

In the semi-derelict warehouse on the outskirts of the Glades posing as Command Central for the covert criminal gang, the final preparations were taking place for Phase 2 of the mission. Reports of various low levels of criminal activity instigated by the various operatives the woman has put into place across the city are being fed back through a closed network of walkie talkie devices and mobile text messages from disposable pay-as-you-go phones. No refined efforts have been made to make sure their communications are secure, as no-one could possibly guess that the current Phase 1 criminal activity was part of a co-ordinated plan.

The woman entered the warehouse dressed in her dark military clothing and raised an appreciative eye or two from the men in the room. None however scoffed at her wearing such apparel as they had been informed by their lead operative, Rivers, the tall bald headed man that had shown her around earlier, about her background in Special Forces and her family's underworld connections. A few salient and violent examples of her ability to defend herself, and attack others, had put paid to any concerns about her ability to lead the mission or see it to a successful conclusion.

The woman knows she needs these men for the mission to succeed, she needs their skills and their muscles and their willingness to break the law for a price, but more importantly she needs them as a diversion so that her own secret mission can be attempted, using the events that are about to unfold on the streets of Starling City as a perfect distraction for local law enforcement.

The woman stood by Rivers and scanned the faces of the other men as he addressed them, asked them brief questions, gave orders, and pointed out areas of the city on the paper map draped across the trestle table in the centre of the ground floor area. As if to quell a few inquisitive looks from his men, and perhaps to increase his standing in the eyes of the woman, Rivers straightened up and spoke with authority.

"You have been paid well to do this job, and you will do it well. You do not need to know anything else. Ignorance is still a useful defence. Curiousity," Rivers paused for dramatic effect, "will terminate your usefulness."

Satisfied that everything was going according to plan, she indicated with her head towards the side exit of the warehouse and Rivers followed her in that direction.

"Call me when both targets are secured, and then bring chaos down on the city," she said, her eyes boring into her associate, "I want the emergency services tied up in knots, hospitals bursting at the seams, and the police trapped in their own precincts."

"And the Arrow?" said Rivers, a note of concern in his voice.

"Kill him if you can," said the woman, her eyes blazing, "but it doesn't matter. He is dangerous, but he's only one man. He can't be in twenty places at once. Even he has his limitations."

"I meant to say before, it's one hell of a plan," said the bald man appreciatively, looking back at the hive of activity taking place in the warehouse.

"And it will only work if everyone plays their part. No mistakes," said the woman firmly, ignoring the compliment, "I want precision, I want clockwork timing, I want perfection."

"That's my middle name," said the bald man moving closer to the woman.

"Well according to your background check, it's Andrew," said the woman condescendingly, pushing him firmly away with a strong hand.

The woman glared at the man one final time and then turned on her heel and exited through the steel door at the side of the warehouse. She breathed out a warm breath into the cold air outside, which streamed out before her before curling up into the darkening sky.

"Men," she spat out the word like a bad taste.

The woman walked a few steps over to the black van parked in the alley at the side of the warehouse and slipped into the driver's seat. Gunning the engine, she looked in her rear view mirror to see her secret friend lying in the back.

"You OK? You look pissed," said her male accomplice.

"I'm fine," she said and then depressed the accelerator and steered the van down the alley and towards the main road, "thank god you're not like them."

Once Diggle was fully satisfied that the Arrow cave was fully stocked for whatever mission the next night would bring, and all equipment was in fully working order he headed home. He was looking forward to being with his daughter Sara for an hour before she went to sleep, as his normal working hours normally meant that he missed out on bath time and bedtime.

John hoped that Oliver and Felicity's evening would be a success. At least this time it was highly unlikely that their budding romance would be curtailed by a rocket grenade attack. As John drove back to his apartment he mused on his two friends and how they had come to reach this stage in their relationship – via a friendship that had started due to a bizarre set of circumstances, and triggered by Oliver Queen's return to Starling City three years previously to launch a crusade against a criminal elite by going undercover as a Vigilante.

John had seen Felicity grow in strength, poise and confidence in the time that she had been working with himself and Oliver, and her initial girlish, and quite obvious, infatuation with Oliver had blossomed into something much deeper over those years. John also knew that Oliver had come to gradually see the female IT specialist part of Team Arrow in quite a different light over the past three years.

If the pair of them could only finally talk openly with each other and express what their feelings were Diggle knew they would be together. Finding the time to do this when the Team were normally knee deep in bad guys and running through the streets of Starling each night had been impossible. But now, with this precious night off, John was hopeful that something would finally happen.

John knew that Oliver deserved happiness despite what he often protested about the nature of his work and his mission being prohibitive to such luxuries. For John it was the essence of him – he threw himself into dangerous situations and fought because he cared so much, he didn't need to hold people at arm's length. The fact that he and Lyla had got back together, that Sara had been born, and that he was happier than he had ever been in his life, despite the ever present danger of his work with Team Arrow, laid waste to Oliver's argument that he couldn't save Starling City and be with the person he loved.

As John stepped across his threshold and closed the door of the apartment behind him he sensed somehow that something would prevent him having a quite night in with the love of his life, and he immediately envied Oliver Queen.

The nanny was on the floor of the living room on a blanket and playing with Sara, a selection of multi-coloured soft toys littered the floor all around, proof of his daughter's excellent throwing arm at such a young age. The nanny glanced up at John as he entered the flat and pointed right with a finger towards the corridor leading down to the bedroom.

When John entered the bedroom, Lyla was just finishing packing a small holdall. She looked up and gave John a look of sympathy and apology.

"I have a flight at 21:00 hours to Markovia, one of our agents has gone silent. I'm sorry," said Lyla stepping towards John.

"Can't they send someone else? You just got back from a mission," said John, "Sara needs you. So do I."

"Are we going to have this conversation every time I have to go to work?" said Lyla, reaching her arms up and over John's shoulders, leaning into him.

"We wouldn't need to if your work didn't involve dashing off at a moment's notice to travel thousands of miles in order to save the world," said Diggle, wrapping his arms around Lyla's back and hugging her to him.

"There is just a much danger outside our front door on the streets of Starling," said Lyla, looking into John's eyes, "the work you do with Oliver is proof of that. Do I mention that every night when you head out?"

John leaned down and kissed Lyla gently on the lips. She moved her right hand to the nape of his neck, gently pulling his head towards hers, and returned his kiss with more passion. Once they had pulled apart she turned and walked over to the bed and picked up the holdall.

"Just because I don't say anything, it doesn't mean I don't worry," said Lyla as she walked back over to John, placing her free hand on his chest, "but like me you're good at your job, so I know, and you should too, that we have less to worry about than we imagine."

Lyla reached up to kiss John lightly on the lips before walking out of the bedroom and into the living area to say goodbye to her daughter. By the time that Diggle returned to the living room Lyla had already left the apartment, and Sara was throwing yet another soft toy at her nanny, smiling as she did so.

Laurel Lance switched off her computer, slipped into her overcoat, and picked up her briefcase and her sports bag as she walked out of her office. She wished a few staff a goodnight and headed down the stairs, hooking her coat across her chest as she stepped out into the cold night air after exiting through the main entrance District Attorney's office building.

Across the street, in a parked van, two men watched as Laurel Lance headed up the street, before turning to hail a cab. The passenger in the van held a walkie talkie device to his mouth as his driver pulled out into traffic and started to follow the cab that Laurel had got into.

"This is Team Two. Target Two is mobile, we are in pursuit."

Back in the high rise office in downtown Starling the mystery woman and her accomplice are working through their own preparations for that evening, which do not include going for dinner. Both are dressed in black military style clothing from head to foot, the woman's dark hair is pulled back into a tight knotted bun at the nape of her neck, her accomplice has a ski mask rolled up into a beanie on the top of his head.

He is checking and depositing weaponry, incendiaries, and a range of electronic equipment, laid out on the desk in the office, into two back packs. The woman stands looking out over the Starling City landscape seen through the office window; dark clouds can be seen gathering in the early night sky. She lifts her arm and looks at the chunky utility watch on her wrist and smiles thinly.

"Time to check in," she said, walking around the desk to take her seat and leaning forward to tap the buttons on the multi-tone telephone. The dialling tone echoes around the sparsely furnished office. As the call is connected, the woman looks up at her accomplice and raises finger to her lips, signalling him to be quiet.

"Is everything ready?" said the metallic sounding male voice from the previous telephone call in this very room.

"Yes. Both targets will be lifted in approximately three hours. All our operatives are in place and have commenced their Phase One missions. Once the targets are secured, the signal will given to commence Phase Two."

"Excellent," said the voice at the other end of the line," call me when the signal has been given. I want no mistakes, is that clear?"

"Yes sir," said the woman.

The caller at the other end terminated the conversation and for a second or two the only noise in the office was a disengaged tone via the speakerphone. The woman punched a button on the telephone handset and silenced the noise.

"He's a charmer," said the woman's accomplice with a degree of sarcasm.

"For the moment he's paying our bills, so we humour him," said the woman standing up and walking around the desk to stand by her accomplice who was checking a hand gun. She took the gun from his hand, picked up a full magazine of bullets and effortlessly slipped it into position inside the pistol, clicking on the safety mechanism. She slipped the gun into the holster under her armpit.

"Once Phase Two is over we won't have to speak to him ever again," she purred menacingly.

"We should go," said the man, holding up his wrist to check the time on his watch, lifting the backpack over his shoulder.

The woman then turned away from the desk, grabbing her backpack as she turned, and walked towards the door leading out of the office. Once the two of them were in the corridor outside, the woman turned back to face the open doorway of the office. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a silver lighter and lit it and then threw the flame through the open doorway of the office; turning to flee down the nearby stairwell after her accomplice.

Having previously saturated the floor, sparse furniture, and walls with a quick accelerant, the lit flame she threw into the room took little time in creating a fireball that ripped through the penthouse office and sent a fireball crashing through the windows that the woman had been standing at moments before.

**Chapter Six**

Felicity was somewhat nervous a she turned the key in the lock of her apartment door and stepped inside, followed by Oliver carrying his bag of groceries. Felicity was nervous not only because Oliver was in her apartment, but also because she couldn't remember if she'd left her apartment in a fit state when she'd left for work that morning. With a full-time job at Palmer's a full night shift of activities with Team Arrow, housework had taken something of a back seat for a few months. Having quickly scanned her living room and kitchen area she breathed a small sigh of relief that things looked moderately clean and tidy.

Oliver marched straight through to the kitchen and began emptying the bag of groceries on to the long work surface, and deposited a few items in the fridge.

"Do you mind if I hunt around?" said Oliver, indicating the kitchen area around him.

"Be my guest," said Felicity brightly, "I'll just go and change."

As Felicity was running around in her bedroom, which did require tidying, trying to choose what to wear and also to make the room more presentable, she mused that this evening was like an inverted 1950s sitcom, with the man in the kitchen preparing the food after the woman comes home from work. When Felicity re-emerged from her bedroom and walked into the kitchen area Oliver was several processes in to producing their evening meal. On the hob there was a pan of something steaming and a frying pan containing chopped meat cooking away; vegetables in various diced and chopped forms lay on the long work surface.

"Wow who knew I had all this useful stuff in my kitchen," said Felicity as she grabbed a piece of chopped carrot and nibbled on it.

Felicity walked over to her fridge and opened it, "How about some wine?"

As she opened the fridge she saw the bottle of champagne that Oliver must have brought with him. She blushed slightly as she picked it up and turned to face him, holding the bottle aloft.

"Well, it's not every day we get a night off," he said before turning back to chop more vegetables at a frantic rate.

The mobile units following Laurel Lance and Oliver Queen reported their status and locations into Command HQ. Oliver's shadows had just pulled up a street away from Felicity Smoak's apartment, having followed both her and Oliver to this location from the Palmer Technology building. Laurel's mobile watchers were still tailing the cab she was in, which was heading towards the Glades, in the opposite direction to her apartment.

"This is Command," said Rivers back at the warehouse into the earpieces of the mobile operatives, "you have a green light to extract your targets. Phase 2 is T-minus 30minutes."

By the light of some candles that Felicity had accessorised the small low table in her living room area with, Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak quietly tucked in to the meal that Oliver had made, whilst they sat on her couch holding bowls full of the Chinese food Oliver had cooked. Felicity made some positive compliments about the food, which Oliver tried to downplay, and the two of them engaged in some awkward small talk as the food was consumed. Felicity was slightly regretting not buying a dining table, but as she hardly ate at home, and didn't engage in a lot of fine dining when she did, she had viewed the table purchase as non-essential when she had moved into her apartment when she came to Starling City.

It was finally Felicity who attempted to steer the conversation away from general chit chat about the weather, their friend's health, their recent successes in combatting crime, and how Queen Consolidated was doing under the helm of Dr Palmer. Felicity took a sip of her champagne and gently placed the glass back on the low table.

"I never told you this but we may never have met if it hadn't been for your father."

Oliver, surprised, swallowed the last morsels of food in his mouth and tried not to cough.

"You knew my Dad?"

"No. Well I saw him once but he had no idea what he did to influence me, or how he ended up changing the course of my life."

Oliver tipped his head slightly to one side and threw a look at Felicity that she knew very well – Oliver wanted an explanation.

"I had two interviews on the same day when I first came to Starling, one with Queen Consolidated, and one with Merlyn Global," said Felicity.

"Really?" said Oliver, his conflicted thoughts about the name Merlyn churned between his love for his late friend Tommy and his hatred of his nightmare of a father.

"I got offered both, and I didn't know what to do. So I walked about outside each building, watching the staff coming and going, trying to figure out if one lot looked happier than another."

"Very scientific," deadpanned Oliver, taking a sip from his champagne glass.

"Anyway, I was sitting in the foyer of Queen Consolidated and your father got out of his chauffeur driven limousine and walked into the building. He shook so many hands, he stopped and talked to some of the staff and the Security guy, he asked about their families," said Felicity smiling at the memory, "and I decided which job to take there and then."

Oliver leant forward and placed his finished bowl of food on the low table in front of the couch.

"When I was nine my father took me into work with him. He claimed he knew the name of every member of staff in the building. I watched him all day, and he greeted everyone by name that he came across. I have no idea if he prepped in advance of my visit or if he did know their names, but it impressed the hell out of me at the time."

Oliver smiled a tight lipped smile. His piercing blue grey eyes warmly looking at Felicity.

"Thank you," said Oliver softly.

"For what?" said Felicity confused.

"For giving me another reason to be grateful to my father," said Oliver, "I can't imagine what my life would be like now if I hadn't met you."

On the other side of the city, Laurel Lance had exited the taxi on the main road and she was now striding down the alley next to Ted Grant's gym in the Glades. It was a cold night and her breath snaked out of her in wisps of thin smoke as she walked along. It had been a long and busy day and Laurel was looking forward to training with Ted and channelling some of her professional frustrations out on some extreme exercise. The punch bag would also probably take a minor battering due to her father and her former boyfriend being out on dates tonight. Sometimes Laurel felt like everyone else had the ability to move on with their lives, whilst all she had was work, work, and even more work. Would Ted be the one to show her another way to be?

Though Laurel, a policeman's daughter, had been strictly brought up to be wary of her surroundings especially when she was out at night, or on her own, she was distracted by thoughts of Oliver, her father, Ted, and her life in general, so she never heard the attacker who crept up behind her in the alley until it was too late. There was no time to scream or fight, before she felt a sharp pain in her neck and she was dragged, half conscious into the back of a van.

Having finished their meal Felicity cleared the small table in the living room and deposited the plates and cutlery in to the dishwasher in the kitchen. Felicity then topped up both Oliver's and her own glass with champagne and sat down alongside him on her sofa in the living area.

"I know they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach but any man who can cook like that for a woman is on to a pretty good thing," said Felicity, who then stared wide-eyed realising what she had said could be misconstrued. She closed her eyes and scrunched her facial features tightly with embarrassment.

"Thanks," Oliver laughed lightly.

"I'll stop talking now," muttered Felicity. There was a pause when they held each other's look, before Oliver tipped his glass towards Felicity, and she reciprocated with hers. They each took a sip of the champagne.

"I'm glad we did this," said Oliver, placing his glass on the low table.

"So am I," she replied.

Oliver moved slightly forward, leaning his right arm along the back of the couch.

"Due to the work we do, we never get a chance to talk about…things," started Oliver, his tone calm but firm, "Felicity you're my partner and my friend. We've been through _a lot_ together, and I care about you."

"If you're about to say "but", I have to tell you you're timing is awful," said Felicity, half joking and half afraid of Oliver's next sentence.

"But," said Oliver, "I need to know how you feel. I told you in the hospital after Diggle's daughter was born that I loved you but I didn't see a way for me to be with you. After Sara was killed I know I pulled further away. I thought it was the best thing for you at the time."

"And now?" said Felicity leaning forward, her heart beating hard in her chest.

"And now, I think that maybe I let events overtake me, I think that maybe I was wrong," said Oliver, his eyes glistening.

"Oliver, with what we do every night, events are always going to overtake us," said Felicity reaching forwards and placing her hand over Oliver's, resting on his upper leg "so that is even more reason not to push away the people we care about."

"I want to protect you," said Oliver, "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I know, and I love you for it, but I can't and I don't live my life in isolation. I chose to work with you and John and Roy; I knew there would be danger. It's my choice, you have to accept that."

Oliver dropped his head and breathed out slowly. As he raised his head to look at Felicity there were tears forming in his eyes.

"I used to think I never deserved to be with anyone because of who I'd become and what I'd done. I don't know if that feeling has truly gone away. All I know is, I don't want to push you away anymore."

"Well in that case you're lucky," said Felicity, her eyes smiling at Oliver.

"I am, how?"

"Because I don't want you to push me away either."

Oliver leaned forward on the couch and kissed Felicity. She fully returned his kiss and leaned in towards him. Oliver wrapped his arms around her and pulled her towards him so their chests were touching, their hearts beating against the other. Oliver raised himself to his feet, his arms still wrapped around Felicity. He bent slightly and scooped one arm under the backs of her legs, lifting her into his arms.

Oliver took a few steps forward in the living room area and then stopped in his tracks; looking ahead he saw a very short corridor containing four identical closed doors. Felicity saw a brief look of hesitation on his face.

"What's wrong? If you're not ready…." she whispered.

Oliver kissed Felicity briefly and firmly.

"Believe me, I am more than ready.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know which one of those is your bedroom," said Oliver softly, looking down the corridor at the closed doorways and then back at Felicity.

"Oh."

Ted Grant checked his mobile phone for the third time. There was still no text reply from Laurel to the message he had sent her twenty minutes ago. Ted had been expecting Laurel at his gym for a training session nearly half an hour ago, and she was never late for her sessions; if anything she was always eager and early.

Ted sighed out a brief breath, and then punched the contacts list in his mobile and dialled Laurel's number. The call went immediately to voicemail, so he left a brief message. Not content with waiting however, he also dialled the work number that Laurel had given him just in case he__needed to reach__her at work for any reason. Luckily, one of her colleagues was working overtime and picked up her phone.

If Ted had been mildly concerned before phoning Laurel's office, at the end of the call with Laurel's colleague he was downright worried. Laurel had left the office over an hour ago and said she was heading to her "exercise class" – the code Ted knew she used at work for the sessions in Ted's gym.

Ted grabbed his jacket, switched off the lights in the gym, locked up and raced down the street to hail a cab to take him to Laurel's apartment. If Laurel wasn't home, there was only one course of action Ted grant could take. He would have to go and see a man who hated him; Laurel's father.

Thirty minutes earlier, Quentin Lance adjusted his tie for what felt like the fifteenth time as he stood outside Romano's restaurant on Brewer Street a few minutes before eight o'clock. Not only had he been surprised that Special Agent Morgan had asked him out to dinner, but he was also surprised, pleasantly so, that his good suit, what Laurel referred to earlier as his "date" suit, still fitted him. Lance bit down the thought that he was about to embark on a date. Yes, a woman had asked him out to dinner, but the woman was a fellow professional wanting information from him – hardly the basis for a budding romance.

"Captain, right on time," said a cool female voice behind him. Lance turned to see Special Agent Morgan standing by the entrance to the restaurant, her blonde hair now falling in soft curls around her shoulders, and her striking face more made up. Lance was momentarily stunned into silence.

"Shall we?" she said, indicating towards the restaurant.

They were seated, their choices taken and wine brought to the table relatively quickly. Lance was learning that Special Agent Morgan was not a woman who wasted time or took a non-direct route with anything in her life – even down to ordering food off a menu. She was similarly direct in launching into table conversation and began firing questions at Lance about his time with the SCPD and his opinions about life in Starling City before their main course had even arrived. Lance hardly had a chance to ask her any questions in return.

The Federal Agent explained to Lance that she would be a frequent visitor to the SCPD Headquarters over the coming weeks and months, and that she would be working closely, and with the full permission, of the DA's office and the Mayor's office, pulling all available resources together to combat organised crime. She would have the sole ability to sanction money from the national directive budget to cover overtime payments to Lance's officers, or provide extra resources if and when required.

"I have the requisite authority to compel you to provide the assistance I require both in manpower and resources, but I'd rather not take that route," her tone started firmly but then softened, "Look, Captain, we're after the same thing. We want the streets of this city washed clean of the criminal gangs that destroy homes and lives. Agreed? So why don't we work together."

Lance put his elbows on the table and meshed his fingers into a steeple over his dinner plate. He had been in enough of these situations before to know when he was backed into a corner, but at the heart of the matter she was right, they wanted the same outcome.

"Agreed," stated Lance.

"Good. You and your team know this city better than I do at present so I would value having one of your team assigned to help me whilst I'm here. The research suggests that getting local law enforcement intimately involved in preventative measures targeting low level crime can have a serious effect in weakening existing crime organisations and hinders the development of new cartels," she said as she hacked at her steak.

"You make it sound like fighting low level crime, as you call it, is a new thing," said Lance reaching for his water glass," we kind of do that day in day out here."

"I'm not talking about petty larceny or vehicle theft," said Morgan reaching for her wine.

"Look, I don't know what you've been told about Starling City, but it has a few more problems than people losing a handbag or their Toyota," said Lance sarcastically.

"I know Captain. If that had been case you wouldn't have a Vigilante running around trying to kill drug dealers, terrorists and rogue billionaires with a desire to flatten the city with an earthquake machine," she retorted.

"The Arrow," said Lance.

"What?"

"He's not a vigilante, he's called the Arrow."

"By anyone's definition of a person operating outside of the law, attacking people, acting like judge and jury, he_ is_ a vigilante," said Special Agent Morgan, leaning forward and fixing Lance with a firm look.

"He's changed."

"He's a friend of yours?" said Morgan aghast.

"No. But he's a friend of this city."

"How touching."

Lance was about to reply to this last comment, when he saw Ted Grant approaching his table. Special Agent Morgan looked up at Ted, then at Lance, as the Captain stood up and stared at Ted in disbelief. What the hell was he doing here?

"Mr Lance, Laurel's disappeared," said Ted gravely.

Back at the Arrow cave, the algorithm that Felicity had set in motion the night before was starting to churn up some unexpected, and some would say unbelievable, results based on reports it had processed over the past twelve hours from the SCPD and emergency services in Starling. Over the last two hours there had been a dramatic increase in 911 calls to a variety of incidents at disparate locations across the city. The algorithm was positing a very bleak future for the populace of Starling if the events now unfolding kept occurring at the same rate, and an even bleaker future was forecast if the incidents increased.

Felicity had programmed her mobile to receive updates from the algorithm, but she has not looked at her mobile phone since she and Oliver sat down to dinner. And there is no-one currently in the basement under Verdant nightclub that can see the monitor flashing up alerts that can warn the Team Arrow to the danger that is brewing on the streets of Starling City.

The bedroom was dark as Oliver, carrying Felicity in his arms, opened the door and walked across its threshold. The figure in black was silhouetted against the bedroom window; his outline vaguely highlighted by the fluorescent orange light from a street lamp a few feet away outside. Though Oliver was preoccupied, his quick senses picked out a shape moving in his peripheral vision.

Before Oliver could safely put Felicity on her feet a dart was fired at her neck. She immediately slapped the area that the dart had impacted into, dislodging it, but the sedative was instantly in her system and her vision swam, before she passed out, a dead weight in Oliver's arms.

Oliver's options were limited. He couldn't drop Felicity to the floor for fear of injuring her, but he couldn't fight with her in his arms. He made a move to his right and stepped towards her double bed, aiming to put her down before he could turn on their assailant. With his arms now free, he span round, his fists curled tightly, and launched an attack manoeuvre on the man wearing a balaclava standing by the window.

As Oliver stepped forward he felt a sharp sting on the right side of his neck, and he instantly reached a hand up to the area. He pulled away a dart, like the one that had been fired at Felicity, and he could feel the sedative instantly start to take effect on his system. Oliver's knees buckled under him, and he fell to the floor, the image of a comatose Felicity the last thing his eyes saw as his vision clouded and he blacked out.

The masked man at the window stepped forward and stood over the prone form of Oliver Queen. The man's accomplice, who had fired the dart at Oliver from behind, also stepped over him.

"Old habits die hard. Oliver Queen almost caught with his pants down. Take him, leave her," said the figure wearing the balaclava. Both men reached down and grabbed Oliver's arms and legs and lifted him off the floor.

On the small table by the side of Felicity's bed, her mobile phone began to flash an alert from the computer programme that she had left running in the Arrow cave.

Ted Grant was relaying for the second time the events leading up to his arrival at Romano's restaurant, which had cut short Captain Lance's dinner with Special Agent Morgan, as he and Lance arrived back at SCPD Headquarters and walked into Lance's office.

"And you're sure you two didn't have a row and she's just avoiding you," barked Lance, hoping for any solution that would mean that Laurel was safe and sound somewhere.

"For the last time Captain, no. Everything has been going great recently. We were meant to be seeing each other this evening. I couldn't raise her by her phone, or at work, I went to her apartment and she's not there. Something is definitely wrong," said Ted desperately.

Lance sat in his office chair and re-made all the telephone calls that Ted Grant had said he'd done, with the same result. No-one had seen Laurel since she left her office in the DAs department, heading for what she called her exercise class. Lance's calls and texts to his daughter's mobile went unanswered. In his gut he knew the same as Ted Grant, there was definitely something wrong. Lance sighed heavily, there was only one other person he could call.

Sergeant Burrows suddenly walked through Lance's doorway.

"Captain we're getting several reports of unrest in the Glades, a couple of officers have been injured. I'm heading out with Smith and a couple of others to check the situation out," said Kate, slipping her jacket on as she spoke.

"Hmm, yeah, OK Sergeant," muttered Lance distractedly.

"Are you OK sir?" said Burrows, her brows knitting slightly.

"I'm fine," said Lance standing up to address Burrows, "watch yourself out there, and make sure you go equipped."

"Yes, sir," said Burrows heading out of the open doorway.

"Oh and Burrows," said Lance as she spun round at the doorway and held on to the lintel, "there's an offer of assistance that's be made by the Feds. They need an SCPD officer for some intel gathering on organised crime in Starling. I thought you might be interested?"

"I am sir, thanks, count me in," said Burrows giving Lance a tight smile as she turned and headed for the stairwell exit.

Lance picked up his mobile phone and dialled a number from the stored directory.

Felicity's mobile buzzed on the side table by her bed, Lance's face appearing on the screen. She was unaware of this however, as she was still under the effects of the tranquiliser dart that had been fired at her. Once Lance had terminated his call, her mobile displayed several other alert messages, sent by the program running on her computer in the Arrow cave. Dangerous patterns were emerging on the streets of Starling City.

Lance couldn't get through to the number he had stored in his phone for the Arrow either. He left a similar message to the one he'd left after he couldn't get through to Felicity Smoak. As if his evening couldn't spiral any further into chaos, Lance also had to contend with a developing situation on the streets of Starling, with several fires reported, incidents of vehicle thefts and subsequent crashes, countless reports of violent attacks and lawless behaviour in several districts across the city. Every five minutes it seemed like another cop was bringing him a worse situational analysis update to the one previous.

Lance emerged from his office to find Ted Grant leaning against a filing cabinet nearby, clenching his hand around his mobile phone, his eyes constantly looking to the screen, willing a call or a text to come through from Laurel. As Lance approached him he stepped towards him.

"Any news?" said Ted desperately.

"No," said Lance downcast.

"Now what?" said Grant.

Lance didn't answer Ted, but walked over to one of his uniformed officers, sitting at a desk with two screens in front of her. The female cop was typing frantically into a keyboard and receiving information reports through her headset from her fellow officers out on the streets. She had already alerted her immediate superior to the sudden increase in 911 calls over the past hour. She had been on shift the night the siege, and her gut was telling her that there were too many worrying similarities between that awful night and the situation developing tonight.

"Spencer, I need you to access CCTV from the area outside Ted Grant's gym in the Glades. You're looking for an alley just off Proctor Street. I need you to work back, starting about seven o'clock," said Lance as he leant over the female officer, who started locating any cameras in operation in that area. Street images began appearing in small boxes on the left-hand monitor.

"These are the only working cameras in the area Captain. What am I looking for?" said Officer Spencer.

"My daughter," said Lance gravely.

Spencer briefly turned her head to look at Lance, before she turned her full attention back to the screen, and the images being relayed.

Lance was on the phone to the Mayor's office for the second time that hour, assuring him that the SCPD was doing everything that it could in the present situation. The Mayor relayed to Lance that he had been visited by Special Agent Morgan thirty minutes ago and had been offered extra federal resources if and when Starling sent out a call for help. Lance was loathe to conceded that the SCPD couldn't cope with the current situation, but if the evening got any worse he would have no option but to place the safety of his officers and the city before any feeling of hurt professional pride.

Officer Spencer appeared in his open doorway as Lance was putting the phone receiver back in its cradle. From the look on her face she wasn't about to impart good news. Lance and Grant followed Spencer back to her desk.

"Show me," said Lance.

Spencer tapped a button on her keyboard and the left monitor on her desk filled with black and white film of a rear shot of Laurel Lance heading towards Grant's gym, which was ahead of her and just out of shot. Suddenly, two figures dressed head to foot in black, their faces covered by ski masks, appeared behind her and holding a hand over her face drag her away off to the shadows left of shot.

Ted Grant straightened up and held his right hand over his mouth and Lance hung his head. Both men had been in agony watching the attack on Laurel on screen.

"Spencer I need you to check the area directly before and after this happened…."

"Already ahead of you sir," said Spencer, tapping away on her keyboard. A still image of a black van appeared over the top of the camera footage on the left monitor, and another piece of film appeared on the right hand monitor. Spencer pointed her finger at each screen as she described what she had found.

"Thirty minutes before the event happened in the alley, this black van turned into Proctor Street. The same black van then exited Proctor Street less than a minute after the attack. The licence plate is registered to a rental company, which reported it missing 48 hours ago from their compound. I contacted the company, they're sending over any CCTV images they have."

"Let me know the moment you find anything," said Lance, nodding his thanks to Spencer; who nodded her head in return.

"Who would want to take Laurel?" said Grant, bewilderment and worry in his expression.

"I don't know," said Lance, his eyes blazing, "but we're gonna find out. And we're gonna find her."

Fire spread through the specially selected derelict tenement buildings, boarded up stores, and disused warehouses in the Glades. The buildings chosen by the woman for her operatives to target had already been partly weakened by the earthquake that hit the area two years ago, and partly destroyed by Slade Wilson's mirakuru army laying siege to the Glades the year before. Targeted fires were also started by the secret operatives in half a dozen other districts of Starling.

Long deserted by ordinary workers and their families, who had fled to other parts of the city or further afield, in fear of the curse that some say lay over the Glades, the fires took hold before anyone could notice and raise the alarm. By the time the fire trucks arrived at each location triggered by an emergency call they already knew they had their work cut out for them to prevent the flames from spreading to neighbouring buildings.

As the emergency calls increased from all corners of the city as night fell, the pressure grew on the fire fighters and their chiefs to get the upper hand of a situation starting to spiral out of control. By the time the Starling City Fire Chief, Rob Delaney, walked into the office of the Mayor, nearly two hours after both Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance had been kidnapped, he was already contemplating pulling selected crews away from their fires and surrendering parts of the Glades to the flames. The talk in the Mayor's office was not of control and containment, but of crisis management.

The police force of Starling City was having a multitude of problems in even fielding the constant stream of 911 calls that escalated exponentially as the night progressed. Actually assigning officers to these emergency situations where frightened and distressed residents needed their help was almost impossible with any consistency.

Every officer seemed to silently acknowledge that there would be no change in shift that night – everyone stayed at their post that could, agreeing to work overtime, agreeing to stay until the crisis was over. Officers only took a break when forced to by their increasingly exhausted superiors. Cops were pulled back from leave, or voluntarily ignored their holiday plans and returned to their precincts. Sergeant Jack Johnson who had retired from the SCPD the previous Friday after forty years' service, donned his uniform once more and reported in for a shift; and no-one from the HR team stopped him.

The Emergency Room of Starling General Hospital was beginning to look like a scene from a war movie. Casualties poured through the doors in ever increasing numbers. It was impossible to stop ambulances from depositing their patients there as all other triage centres, clinics and smaller district hospitals were already full; there was nowhere else to take the injured.

Like their police and fire service colleagues, any medical staff, which in a practical sense was anyone with basic medical knowledge working in healthcare, was resigned to the fact that they would be at their posts for the duration, until the crisis abated. A silent prayer went out across the city that the storm would be over soon for it would be impossible to maintain this level of emergency activity for any length of time without the system failing completely.

Diggle had been looking forward to a quiet night in with the two women in his life, but as Lyla's plane took off from the secret ARGUS airfield just outside Starling City, he was tucking into Chinese take-out for one. His daughter Sara, having been awake all day, had fallen into a deep and immediate sleep after her bath-time. Having given the nanny permission to take in a movie with some friends, Diggle settled himself on the sofa and started channel surfing in a disinterested way. He hoped Oliver and Felicity's evening had turned out better than his.

Thirty minutes later John was about to pour himself another glass of wine when Sara's high pitched cries came crackling out of the baby monitor in the living room. John knew it was probably due to her requiring a nappy change that she was crying, and wasn't looking forward to what he'd find when he entered her room. Diggle sighed, set down the wine bottle and the glass and stood up, heading towards his daughter's nursery. As he did so, his mobile started ringing. He slipped a hand into his pocket, and as he looked at the screen he saw Roy Harper's face. Diggle tapped the screen to connect the call and held the phone to his ear.

"Man your timing is perfect; tell me you need me to come in straight away and beat on some bad guys," said Diggle sarcastically.

"Er, well yeah actually I do. I've been scanning police frequencies. Laurel's been kidnapped," said Roy.

Diggle contacted the nanny and got her to return to his apartment immediately. John then raced to the Arrow cave to meet up with Roy, who had raced there after he called Diggle about his awful discovery. As he was on route he called both Felicity and Oliver's mobiles, and ended up leaving messages as both didn't answer. As John drove towards the old Queen's Consolidated Foundry building he noticed that there seemed to be a lot of sirens going off this evening, and his journey was slightly diverted by fire trucks which had blocked off a street due to large fire in a warehouse five blocks from Verdant.

John was going to enter the Arrow cave via the secret entrance, but as he approached the building housing Verdant, he noticed it was quieter than normal. John walked in through the front entrance to the nightclub, nodding to the doorman. The club was starting to empty, with partygoers all looking at their mobile phones as they started to stream out through the entrance doors; apart from the staff and Thea Queen there can't have been more than twenty people in the club.

"What's up? DJ having a bad night," said John as Thea approached him.

"No, there's some trouble on the streets in the Glades. The SCPD just paid me a visit and advised me to close up and send everybody home," said Thea, "are you looking for Oliver? If you are, I haven't seen him since lunch."

"I'm sure Oliver's fine. Look you make sure you get home safe OK," said John as he headed out through the entrance doors to the nightclub, and then jogged around the outside of the building to enter the Arrow cave by the secret side entrance.

Roy was leaning over the screens on Felicity's desk as John approached the workstation.

"Where's Felicity? I can't get through on her mobile, and I have no idea what I'm doing with this__stuff," said Roy waving his hands in the direction of her computer equipment.

"You can't get through either?" said Diggle, looking at Roy.

"No, I left like three messages for Oliver as well," said Roy, who saw an expression on John's face that needed further explanation, "what's up?"

"They were having dinner together. I guess they got occupied," said John awkwardly.

"Occupied or not, they should have called back by now," said Roy reasonably.

John nodded briefly, and reached in his pocket for his mobile phone. He dialled Felicity's number again. As he did so, a news bulletin flashed up on the screen on the far right of Felicity's desk, with pictures of both Laurel Lance and Oliver Queen, and a frightening banner headline under their images – Kidnapped.

"I think Felicity and Oliver are more than occupied," muttered Roy.

As John Diggle drove at break neck speed across Starling towards Felicity's apartment, the news of the kidnap of Starling City's favourite ex-party boy and its determined Assistant DA was breaking across every news channel and all over social media sites.

Thea saw the news when she arrived at her apartment and turned on the TV. She immediately called Oliver's mobile which went straight to voicemail, then she called John Diggle's number, which did the same, and then she called Malcolm Merlyn's number, anger competing with tears as she left him a message, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from the images on the television screen. Where was everyone when she needed them?

A blurry video message, featuring images of both Oliver and Laurel tied up and lying on the floor of their individual "prisons", and with the sound quality heavily camouflaged, was released by the kidnappers to the media and the SCPD. A ransom of $10million was being demanded for the release of their captives and instructions for the payment of the ransom would be released in an hour. The kidnappers affirmed their intentions to do harm to Oliver and Laurel if any attempt was made by the SCPD or the Arrow to try and rescue them.

In the SCPD headquarters building, Lance and Ted Grant looked at the video message on the monitor on Officer Spencer's desk, and then looked at each other, realising their worst nightmares had come true.

Twenty minutes later, Thea Queen, her eyes blazing with anger and fear, walked into Captain Lance's office demanding to know what was being done to find her brother.

Lance was a man torn by duty and love. He now knew the scope of the chaos being inflicted on the streets of Starling City. He was being regularly updated by his team about the constant stream of reports pouring in to the SCPD Headquarters and other precincts across the city. Lance fielded phone call after phone call from the DAs and the Mayor's offices, which was now Crisis Command Central, about the status of SCPD forces distributed throughout Starling.

Lance was seen as something of a trusted hand in these types of situations having been in Starling during both the earthquake and the siege. His officers trusted him and he had a natural ability to lead cops in trying times. Many eyes were starting to look to Lance to provide that leadership again.

But Lance was torn. He could see what was happening and knew that things were almost beyond the limit of the resources available to bring them under control again. It would take every man and woman in the SCPD to give their full and total focus to their jobs for the foreseeable future in order to try and hold the chaos at bay – the people of Starling City were depending on them with their very lives at stake. But his daughter Laurel had been kidnapped, and everything in him told him he had to give his total focus to finding her.

As a father Lance's immediate reaction was to drop everything and go and find Laurel and keep her safe from harm. As a Captain in the SCPD, and one of the most experienced officers on the streets of Starling, his team, his police force, were depending on him to bring his A game to the table. The safety of his officers and the protection of the people of Starling was at stake.

Laurel Lance had a banging headache. As she sat up on the cold concrete floor of the small windowless room she found herself in, she raised a hand to her head and winced. She felt other parts of her body and looked at her clothes, there didn't seem to be any injuries, but there were scuff marks on her court heels, and her new suit jacket was ripped. Laurel struggled to her feet, the after effects of the sedative she had been given made her feel light-headed, she rubbed her neck and the memory of a sharp pain returned to her. She steadied herself against the wall nearest her.

The room was partly in shadow, a single bulb hanging from the ceiling providing the only light. Laurel walked over to the door, there was no handle on the inside; she pushed it a couple of times but knew there was no way she would be able to kick it open; it was metal and wouldn't budge. She placed an ear against the door in the hope she might be able to hear noise outside the room, but there was nothing she could distinguish. She checked the room from corner to corner, it was solid and concrete. Her handbag, containing her mobile phone, was missing, so there was no hope of calling for help even if she could get a signal. Laurel imagined she might be below ground, due to the lack of a window and the cool air, and the walls feeling vaguely damp to the touch.

Why had she been taken? Was it a revenge attack for someone she had put away as an Assistant DA? Was this something to do with her father being a cop? More worryingly did the person that took her know that she was working with the Arrow and his team? She needed answers and she needed them now.

Laurel Lance could feel her anger rising within her. She was as mad as hell, and the next person that came through the door was going to know it.

Thea's mobile rang as she put the key in her front door and turned the key. She snatched at her mobile hoping against hope that it was Oliver, but as she looked at the screen her father's face appeared.

"Thea, I heard the news about Oliver and Laurel Lance. Where are you?" said Merlyn, his voice clipped, his concern obvious.

"Home. I'm just back from the police station. I spoke with Laurel's father. He's going to let me know the moment he hears anything," said Thea in a small voice, shutting her front door behind her and then turning to walk towards the windows in the living area that looked out over Starling City. Thea didn't even bother to turn on the lights. She stood with tears forming in her eyes as she looked out at the city skyline, briefly lit in places by fires, with a couple of helicopters circling over the high rises downtown.

"Thea the streets are not safe, I don't want you leaving the apartment, do you hear?" said Merlyn calmly but sternly.

"Where would I go. The police advised everyone to stay out of the Glades, I can't open the club. I just feel so helpless," said Thea, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"You are hardly that young lady," said Merlyn, "I will be back in Starling in 24 hours. Do as I say, don't go out. I've contacted some of my associates to see if they can help. I'll call you if they find anything. Make no mistake, we will find Oliver, and we will exact a price on those who took him."

"Thank you Dad," said Thea, ending the call. She wiped away the tear, already starting to feel her anger taking hold of her emotions.

Felicity opened an eye and groaned. She could hear ringing but wasn't sure if it was coming from outside or inside her head, which was pounding. She moved an arm slowly and brought a hand up to her head, running it very slowly over her hair. She opened her other eye and as her eyes began to adjust, she realised she was in her bedroom in the dark. She was also fully clothed and laying diagonally across the bottom of her bed. And then, through the fog of her memory and the pounding of her brain, she realised what had happened.

"Oliver?" she said weakly as she attempted to sit up. There was no reply. Felicity managed to hook her legs over the end of the bed and she sat up, leaning forward with one hand still holding her head. The ringing was still there, the same note, the same tone. Felicity moved her head to the left and slightly behind her and saw the light from her mobile flashing in the gloom of the room on her nightstand.

Suddenly there was a loud noise from outside the room, and a moment later John Diggle was silhouetted in her bedroom doorway, gun drawn and pointing at her.

"Felicity, are you OK?" said John as he dashed over to kneel by her side.

"Where's Oliver?" said Felicity, confused, "we were…there was a man, he hit me with something and I blacked out. How long have I been out?"

John stepped over to the doorway of Felicity's bedroom and flicked on the overhead light, which made Felicity wince and gasp. Diggle surveyed the room, dropping down to retrieve a spent tranquiliser dart, and Oliver's mobile phone which had fallen to one side. John reached up to his right ear and connected his Bluetooth device.

"Roy, I've got Felicity, looks like they knocked her out before they took Oliver, I'm bringing her back to the Foundry."

Felicity slowly raised her head to look at John's face.

"Who took Oliver? Where is he?" she said breathlessly.

**Chapter Seven**

Over the course of the next hour, many things happened simultaneously in various locations in Starling City. A Starling City virtually held hostage by the extensive criminal activity of a small group of operatives being co-ordinated by a secret Command Centre in a derelict warehouse in the Glades. Except at this point, no-one in Starling City knew it was a co-ordinated attack.

The police, fire and medical services were stretched to the limits of their personnel and resources, trying to maintain order on the streets, fighting dozens of fires across the city, and treating hundreds of casualties. Stores began to suffer from looting, incidents of property damage rose tenfold, aggravated burglary, theft, all increased, and the calls for help just kept on coming.

Inside a black van parked in a side street two blocks away from the Palmer Technology Applied Sciences Division building, the woman who had instigated the co-ordinated attack received word from Rivers that Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance were held captive and that Phase Two had commenced.

The woman then phoned her mystery benefactor and gave him the good news. By now he would be beginning his secret manoeuvres aimed at buying up vast tracts of land in Starling, land that would from the outside be viewed as worthless industrial wastelands. He would also be bringing in a vast shipment of drugs and armaments through Starling Docks that would be the launch pad to create his own secret criminal empire based in the Glades. The woman knew all about her benefactor's secret plans, and though she thought them pointless and short-sighted, they existed as a possible further distraction should her own plans for the rest of the evening risk being discovered. She would have no qualms in giving another tip off to the SCPD, a she had done with the Markov organisation, and selling the man who had bankrolled her plans down the river.

Scanning a local news channel on her mobile phone she was gratified that her operatives had all accomplished their missions successfully, judging by the scenes of carnage being relayed live by Channel 52 reporters. The woman had estimated that a proportion of the "under class" in Starling would take the opportunity amidst all the trouble on the streets to cause trouble of their own, but the reports she had received from Rivers indicated a small army of angry, poor, disenfranchised and criminally inclined citizens had gone out to wreak havoc across the city. An imperceptible smile crept up the corner of her mouth.

Her accomplice, now seated in the passenger seat alongside her, pulled down the ski mask over his face. She followed suit, and then both exited the van, hooking back packs over their shoulders as they ran towards their target, hugging the shadows of the dark street.

Ted Grant told Lance that he wouldn't budge from the SCPD Headquarters offices unless he knew that Laurel was found and that there was a plan to extract her from wherever she was being held captive. He also persuaded Captain Lance that an extra pair of eyes pouring through CCTV footage would be useful to him in finding Laurel and would take the pressure off of Officer Spencer, who was having to input a never-ending data stream of information into the SCPD database.

The obvious difference of opinion held by both men when it came to who Laurel should or should not have in her life was set aside in the quest to find her and bring her back home safely. Lance's team, all of them dedicated and hard-working, was doing all it could to track down Laurel and Oliver, and employed all the resources at its disposal. Lance was proud of his team and knew they always went the extra mile, but the fact that he was checking his mobile phone on a regular basis meant he had more faith in any breakthrough information in the case coming from Felicity Smoak, rather than from someone in the SCPD.

Lance knew Miss Smoak's technological skills and sharp brain were second to none, which is why the Arrow had her on his team, and the information she had relayed to him over the past couple of years had resulted in hundreds of criminals finding a new home in Iron Heights Prison. But this time Lance was fervently wishing that she would come through in record time. Lance's gut was telling him that time was already running out for Laurel.

Oliver slowly opened an eye, and then opened the other; wherever he was it was dark. He moaned slightly as his senses started to come into focus. Was he below ground? Was it still the same night? Where was Felicity, was she OK? He realised he was lying flat on his back, and attempted to sit up, but had trouble flexing his muscles to perform this simple task, so he rolled on to his side. He reached out a hand and touched a large flat cold stone surface. Bracing himself against this wall he managed to get himself into a sitting position; he was breathing, and there were no major injuries, but he knew something was definitely wrong with his body.

Oliver's head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton wool, he couldn't process thoughts at normal speed, and every part of his body seemed less than responsive to his will to move it. He knew he had been drugged, he remembered being hit by the tranquiliser dart, but the after effects were more profound than he'd ever experienced before – and he'd been hit with a few sedative darts over the last few years. He had been trained by experts to withstand their effects.

Oliver took in a breath and winced, he could feel pain in his ribs and stomach. Whoever had kidnapped him had definitely beat on him before they had left him in this place.__What was this place? It was cold and very dark, Oliver couldn't make out the other sides of the room, yet he didn't get the sense it was a large space. He patted his clothing searching for his mobile phone, but its non-existence meant that it must have fallen out of his pocket during the attack in Felicity's bedroom. His assessment of his situation was not encouraging. He was still sedated, had no communications, and no weapon to defend himself with should the men who beat him up chose to come and do the same things again.

Oliver struggled up to his feet, determined to feel his way around the room, to try to locate a door, or a window for a possible exit strategy, but he only managed half a dozen steps before he came crashing to his knees, his head swimming, his stomach turned nauseously, and his motor skills failing him. Oliver breathed out a long breath and brought a hand up to the side of his face. A hand that he realised he could not make out more than an oddly shaped dark blur.

A thought ripped through him like an ice pick. It was more than dark, he couldn't see.

Like most nights over the past few weeks Ray Palmer had stayed in his office well past his normal working day, and was busily engaged in perfecting the technological advances required in order to bring his Advanced Technology Operating Mechanism suit to fruition. As he worked he thought the same thought over and over – he would definitely be further ahead of his self-imposed schedule for getting the suit to work if he engaged the help of Felicity Smoak.

The trouble was, Ray wasn't sure what Felicity's reaction to learning about the suit would be, and at such an early stage in its creation he couldn't risk having the whole project fall apart around his ears. If his Chief Technical Officer decided to go to the Board with her recommendation to have Ray Palmer stood down for mental health concerns, he could wave goodbye to completing his pet project. Ray knew that Felicity's tech savvy brain would probably instantly solve__the problems he had been facing night after night, but it would be a significant move for him to show her the ATOM suit and have to explain to her exactly what it was he is trying to do by creating it. It wasn't every day that you could turn to someone you worked with, and thought very highly of, and say "Hey, I've created a super suit because I want to save the city and fight crime."

Ray Palmer was so engrossed in his work that he barely registered an interest in the news, but in a pause between testing of the nano-chip that just kept breaking down on him, he leaned back on his stool, stretched his aching muscles that had been bent over a workbench for two hours, and glanced at the screen of his laptop which was showing live images of the civil unrest taking place on the streets of Starling. Ray leaned over to the laptop and turned the sound on, listening with growing anger as the reporters spoke of the devastation being suffered by the inhabitants of the city; his city.

Over the course of the last hour the situation has drastically worsened. The streets of the Glades are in open riot and walking on them is now dangerous for anyone, even for those who were initially revelling in the chaos. The opportunistic looters and thieves who had taken advantage of the inability of the SCPD to gain control of the spreading violence, are now prey to more dangerous criminal elements, keen on making their mark amongst their own gang fraternity, or for an ambitious few as part of a precipitous move against the power of established crime families in Starling.

The violence is spreading and increasing not only in the Glades but in several other districts of the city. And the fires continue to burn. There have been no reports of any new fires having been started in the past thirty minutes, but with at least two areas of the Glades almost burning out of control, a thick pall of smoke now hangs over the city, drifting north and west.

There has even been trouble reported in the affluent downtown area of Starling. Earlier the area had been pulsing with the activity and industry of thousands of office workers, but now a coterie of criminals intent on mischief have taken the opportunity to race stolen cars at high speed and loot high end stores of their expensive wares. Vandals run riot through and around the chrome and glass buildings in the insurance and banking district. Museums and art galleries are broken into; the troublemakers leave reminders of their visit in graffiti sprayed over walls and furniture.

In the Arrow cave under Verdant nightclub, Diggle has arrived through the rear entrance and is trying to assist Felicity to walk straight; the after effects of the tranquiliser dart are still having an effect on her motor skills. John has tried and failed at least twice to persuade Felicity to lie down somewhere and allow the drug to fully leave her system. John's concern for Felicity's health is tempered by the fact that his female friend is probably the best hope he has of finding out why Oliver Queen has been kidnapped, where he might be, and who Diggle has to hit in order to free him.

As Felicity falls into the padded chair in front of her bank of monitors and starts to tap at her keyboard, whilst trying not to fall to one side, Roy throws a quizzical look at John.

"Tranquiliser dart," says Diggle holding up the offending article by way of explanation to Roy.

"Should she be operating machinery?" said Roy, half concerned and half humorously.

"Probably not, but you try telling her that," said Diggle exasperated.

"I am here!" yelled Felicity, not quite in control of the volume of her voice. She looked up at John, and gave sheepish grin, before turning her attention back to the monitors, leaning as far towards them as she could as her eyes were still having trouble focusing.

"You've just been hit with a pretty heavy sedative," said Roy in a placating tone, "you need to rest."

"I need to find Oliver, and I can't do that sitting on my sofa nursing a headache," said Felicity who attempted to stand up and take off her coat, but only managed to get one arm out of a sleeve before she fell heavily back down on her chair.

Diggle stepped over to Felicity and helped her remove her coat, which he hooked over the back of her chair. Felicity looked up at John and he could see from her expression the strength of her resolve to remain at her desk.

"And I thought Oliver Queen was stubborn," muttered Diggle.

Diggle raised an eyebrow and then walked over to the metal workstation on the opposite side of the room, where he placed the tranquiliser dart and Oliver's mobile phone on the steel work surface. Roy walked over to him.

"See if you can get any prints off of these. I'm going back to Felicity's apartment with the socco kit to see if there's anything else I can pick up," said Diggle reaching for the small plastic box full of scene of crime equipment, "and keep an eye on her."

"Sure," said Roy, turning his attention to Oliver's mobile as John walked towards the rear exit.

About thirty five minutes later John returned from his survey of the "crime scene" that was Felicity's apartment. Felicity had recovered almost completely from the effects of the tranquiliser dart and was fully focussed, now that her eyesight had returned to normal, on scanning the three monitors on her workspace. Diggle and Roy started processing the samples that John had brought back. There were no prints apart from Oliver's on his mobile phone, and no prints apart from Felicity's on the tranquiliser dart. If the results of the hair, fibre and dirt samples that Diggle had found were inconclusive, they would have to rely on Felicity's IT skills for any hope of finding where Oliver was being held.

Felicity sighed heavily and poked her fingers under her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. A small alarm sounded on the analyser on the workbench on the opposite side of the Arrow cave, and Felicity wheeled her chair around to look at John and Roy, who were looking at the monitor displaying the results.

"Well?" she said, expectantly.

"The hair was yours," said Roy flatly, "and the fibres were just from generic material, nothing out of the ordinary. Could have been your clothes, Oliver's, or the kidnappers, there's no way of knowing."

"Wait," said John, "the dirt sample. It's showing traces of compounds found in fertiliser. Not something I expect you to have at your apartment."

Felicity wheeled back to face her monitors and began typing frantically on her keyboard. Both Roy and John walked over to her workspace.

"Let's assume the fertiliser was present in the place where the kidnappers hang out. I can cross index possible sites where the compounds could be found in Starling, against images extracted from CCTV of vehicles leaving and arriving from those areas in the last three hours, and then cross checking those vehicles against any vehicles seen near my apartment or Ted Grant's gym. Lance has already sent through the footage of the van used to kidnap Laurel," said Felicity rapidly as she tapped her fingers across the keyboard before her.

Roy and John began looking at the images being quickly relayed on the three monitors on the steel workbench. Grainy black and white footage of various vehicles flashed across the screens. Diggle guessed the vehicle they were seeking was probably a van, similar to the one that had been used in the attack on Laurel; it would have been more difficult for the kidnappers to use a car to transport Oliver and remain unnoticed.

"There," said Roy suddenly, pointing his finger at the screen on the far left of the workbench. The three colleagues then watched as two boxed images appeared on screen. In one box was the stills image of the back van parked in the alley near Grant's gym, and in the other the same van pulling out on to the main road from a side street in what looked like an industrial area.

"Where is that?" said Diggle, pointing at the boxed image of the van, the piece of footage running on a loop.

"The camera is situated on the corner of 5th and Elm, on the outskirts of the Glades, it's looking across at the old Cortex Building," said Felicity as she accessed information about the site, her eyes rapidly scanning her right hand monitor "it was shut down eight months ago, three hundred staff were laid off. Three hundred staff who used to help make agro-chemicals."

"Fertiliser," muttered Roy.

Felicity's mobile phone rang. It was Lance, but before she could update him with the discovery Team Arrow had just made, he had news to relay. Felicity tapped her phone screen and her call with Lance was broadcast to John and Roy via speakerphone.

"We've got a lead on the place Laurel may be held in," said Lance breathlessly as he walked down the stairs at the precinct, heading for the basement car park.

"Where?" said Felicity.

"It's a disused office block at the corner of Randall Street and Vine. CCTV places the van that was parked near Grant's gym in that area about two hours ago. The van hasn't been seen on camera since then. And believe me my team has been through every piece of camera footage in this city. Grant and I are heading there now."

"On your own?" said Felicity, concern in her voice.

"Miss Smoak, the city is under siege, I've got every officer working overtime to try and keep order. We don't have the facility to send a full SWAT team after Laurel no matter how much I would like to order one to come with me. Of course if our mutual friend is available to lend a hand, I wouldn't complain."

"He's kind of tied up at the moment," said Felicity.

"Hmm. Well on a night like tonight, I guessed he might be," said Lance, ending the call as he and Ted Grant reached an unmarked police sedan and got in.

The call terminated, Felicity put her phone back on the workbench and tapped in the co-ordinates for the address that Lance had just mentioned. It was on the opposite side of the city from the warehouse on 5th and Elm. Felicity turned to Roy and John and highlighted the problem. Lance was going to need help, and with Oliver not available, that left Diggle and Roy.

"There's only one thing for it, one of us goes to get Oliver, the other helps Lance," said John sagely, looking at Roy.

"No. One of you _should_ go and help Lance, and I think that should be Roy. The two of us should go and get Oliver," said Felicity looking at Diggle.

Starling City was now burning, in at least two areas of the Glades uncontrollably so. The Mayor had authorised the Starling City Fire Chief to withdraw his fire teams from those areas, and set them upon the task of trying to halt the spread of the flames to the surrounding streets and buildings. Thick grey smoke, like a fog, hung in the air over several districts, a light wind helping to disperse the toxic and choking fumes across the cityscape.

There is rampant vandalism and violence on the streets in at least half a dozen different districts, with fires raging or streets blocked due to vehicular crashes in several other areas, stretching the police and other emergency services to their limits in an effort to protect and defend the people of Starling. Only those with a need to cause havoc, or a need to save life, are willing to set foot on the streets. Thousands of residents remain trapped in their homes, some with no electricity due to a fire that has knocked out part of the power grid covering districts in the east of the city.

The small group of operatives whose mission had been to instigate the events that had caused Starling City to implode in upon itself this evening were almost at the end of their various tasks. Each crew or single operative made their final report into Command Central and then began to destroy any equipment that they had utilised during their mission. Communications, weapons, maps, and all covert military grade equipment was burned, smashed or dumped so that it would be unusable and untraceable. Incendiaries were planted to ignite and destroy any last traces of evidence in the rooms or vehicles that they had been using. There would be no finger prints, DNA traces or visual imagery left behind to identify them to the authorities. Like shadows, they appeared and then disappeared; undefined and unknown.

"Felicity," said Diggle slowly, trying to remain patient, "You can't fight these guys."

"It's not all about muscles and punches and arrows and stuff like that," said Felicity, "I have useful skills too."

Two incredulous faces are staring at her, trying to button down the immediate reactions, which is to tell her what she's suggesting is impossible and too dangerous. Roy is the one whose face bears the worst of the battle with his emotions and is the first to break.

"No offence but you can't launch a computer virus at the bad guys and expect them to roll over. They probably have guns you know," said Roy, a sarcastic look on his face, "John and I are trained and experienced, leave it to us."

"Half of Starling is tearing the other half apart. The police are outnumbered and the emergency services are failing. Saving Oliver, and Laurel, and the city, _at the same time_ will mean all of us helping out," said Felicity firmly.

"Felicity…," started John.

"John you know I'm right. You know this is what Oliver would do if he was in our place."

"Oliver wouldn't allow you to put yourself in harm's way," reasoned Diggle.

"I'm not asking your permission," said Felicity stepping towards John so that they were only inches apart. She looked up into her friend's face, her eyes shining with the passion she was feeling.

Diggle sighed heavily and hung his head briefly, before raising it to look at Felicity.

"Well if there's one thing I definitely know, it's that when you get that look on your face there's no moving you. But I'm sure as hell not letting you go anywhere without trying to prepare you," said John.

"We don't have time for a training session, she can't go with you, end of," said Roy as he headed to the rear of the Arrow cave to suit up.

Diggle walked over to the steel cabinet containing Team Arrow's stash of weapons and took out a small hand gun and checked to see it was loaded. He then walked back over to Felicity, and held the weapon out to her.

"I don't want any argument about what you think about using a gun. You will take this and you will use it if it's absolutely necessary. You hear me? You see this face?" said Diggle, pointing a finger towards himself.

"Yeah, bit scared," gulped Felicity.

"We stay in contact the entire time. You get in deep water, you yell. OK?"

"OK," said Felicity.

John slipped in to his black leather jacket, and began filling a small rucksack with a couple of fully loaded pistols, night vision goggles, and exploding arrow heads, and as a last thought he went over to Oliver's long wooden box and took out the "magic" herbs that could counteract all known poisons. Felicity slipped away and changed into the spare set of dark clothing she kept in the Arrow cave, black jeans, a thin hooded sweatshirt_**, **_leather jacket, and flat ankle boots.

Roy returned dressed as Arsenal and picked up his bow from the glass display case near Felicity's workstation as she returned from changing clothes. He glanced over at Felicity, who was checking her mobile and tablet, noticed her new outfit, and then walked over to where Diggle was packing his weapons bag.

"You're letting her go with you?" said Roy in a concerned whisper, "is that wise?"

"It's a wise man who knows when he's lost an argument. I'll watch her back, don't worry," said Diggle quietly.

The three Team Arrow friends met in the space between the glass display cases, and looked briefly at each other.

"Get in, stay safe, get out," said Diggle to Roy.

"Was that your platoon motto?" quipped Roy before giving his friend a serious short nod.

"You get Laurel, we'll get Oliver, and we meet back here," stated Diggle.

As the three of them headed towards the rear exit of the Arrow cave, Felicity nipped over to the steel cabinet containing the weapons cache and took an item off of the top of it before she raced after Diggle.

As John drove the unmarked Team Arrow black van towards the disused Cortex Building near 5th and Elm his mobile phone signalled a text alert. It was Lyla, checking in, letting him know that she was safe. The remainder of the message hid the mountain of concern Lyla must have been experiencing for Diggle having received reports of what was happening in Starling City.

"Reports from home suggest trouble. Get in, get out, stay safe," said the end of Lyla's message.

I aim to sweetheart, thought Diggle, as he slipped his phone in his jacket pocket, and jumped a red light at an intersection. Felicity and he could see trouble on nearly every side street they passed on their journey. The night was illuminated by several fires, abandoned cars left parked at odd angles on the roadway stood burning, flames shot out of holes in the side of buildings were there had once been windows; everything in the areas they passed through seemed to be bathed in a warm orange glow.

Oliver Queen was completely unaware of the chaos facing his city, or the fact that Laurel had been kidnapped too. All he was certain of in that moment was that he knew that his friends would be working on trying to locate him and send help. When that happened he needed to be able to help them save him.

The immediate after effects of the sedative he had been hit with in Felicity's bedroom had faded, but there was still a problem with his eyesight, which was not improving, and his motor skills were still not recovering as quickly as he would have liked. The inescapable conclusion Oliver had reached was that at some point he had been hit with another drug on top of the tranquiliser.

Along with the reason why he had been taken, and who had kidnapped him, another troubling question rattled around in his brain – did his attackers know he was the Arrow?

Across town at the Palmer Technology Applied Sciences Division Building the woman and her accomplice have easily got passed the first three stages of the security protocols surrounding the main building. Firstly they bypassed the current in the electrified fence, also bypassing the alarm system linked to any fluctuation in the current, then once over the fence, they separately ran to the two cameras facing the side entrance to the building and hooked them up to show looped film of the last minute of camera feed. Film that would show the security guards images of an empty walkway instead of the two figures in black walking along it towards the side door. Up in the security control booth inside the building, the blip in the camera feed that occurred wasn't even registered by the three guards on duty.

Once the woman and her accomplice had reconvened at the side door, he withdrew a small metal device from his backpack, and gently prised opened the square digital lock to the right of the door. Applying a wire from the device in his hand to one of the exposed terminals inside the lock, he then tapped two buttons on the metal device. After three seconds the red light on the metal device turned green, and he removed the wire connected to the door lock. The woman turned the door handle and the door opened. No alarm sounded.

"Best fifty grand we ever spent," smiled her accomplice as he held the metal device up, and they both slipped in through the open door, closing it gently behind them.

Once inside the semi-dark cavernous warehouse space that houses the equipment racks holding the scientific and technological innovative wealth of the Applied Sciences Division, the two figures in black separate again and move swiftly towards their goals. Using small tablets, from which they access stolen schematics of the building and the archived list of its content, they quickly locate the items they need to steal, placing them in their backpacks.

They have timed and perfected this attack meticulously so that they can be in and out of the building before the security guards begin their regular perimeter walk of the warehouse. As the two figures in black slip back out of the side door to the building, the first security guard is starting his patrol.

The woman's accomplice replaces the front cover of the digital lock, and then they both return to the cameras they had bypassed with "fake" film footage, and reinstate the live feed. They meet up again back at the fence, slip over it, and then the woman reinstates the alarm and electrical current to that area of the perimeter fence. They have removed all traces of their visit – it's like they were never there.

At the corner of Randall and Vine, Captain Lance indicated left and turned into the street heading away from the building where he believed his daughter was being held. He drove his unmarked police sedan down the street for several feet and then turned left again down a dark alley, and depressing the brake pedal. Lance switched off the car engine, and he and Ted Grant stepped out of the vehicle. Lance led the way back up the alley and hugging the edge of the building on his right, he peaked his head around the wall to glance quickly back up the street towards the dilapidated office block at 1579 Randall. Lance removed his pistol from his hip holster and clicked off the safety.

A noise immediately to their rear made both Lance and Ted Grant whirl around in the alley. Roy Harper, aka Arsenal, stepped out from behind a dumpster, his bow gripped in his right hand, his dark red leather suit tight against his frame. With his hood pulled forward and his eyes blackened underneath his mask, he appeared to have no defining or recognisable facial features.

Grant looked at Lance, who didn't show a trace of surprise or fear at this new arrival, and decided to follow the Captain's lead on whatever was about to go down. If the guy in leather was here to help get Laurel he could be as mysterious as he liked.

"Is your partner in green here," said Lance, his eyes glancing up to the rooftop above them.

"He's tied up right now, but I'm here to help," said Roy, his voice disguised by the modulator that both he and Oliver carried. Roy walked past Grant and Lance and peered around the alley wall. He could hear sirens wailing nearby. A couple of cars going at speed passed by the alley but there was no other traffic around and no-one walking on the streets in the area. Fear was keeping the residents of Starling away from their routine evening pursuits.

Arsenal turned back into the alley and faced Lance.

"The building has six floors. The roof is unguarded. I'll head up, work my way down to the ground floor. Give me ten minutes then you two get in position by the side entrance on Elm. When I give the signal meet me inside. We don't know how many men are in the building, so watch your back."

"What's the signal?" said Ted as Arsenal headed down the alley away from them.

"Believe me, you'll know it when you see it," growled Roy as he sped up into a run and disappeared in to the shadows.

"Here, you'll need this," said Lance slipping a hand into his jacket pocket and withdrawing a small handgun, which he handed to Grant. "You will use this only when strictly necessary do you hear me? No wild shots and no heroics. I don't want my daughter getting injured by accident."

Grant nodded, and checked the bullets in the weapon and clicked off the safety.

Roy, having run to the end of the alley, turned left and ran the length of another alley which brought him out on to the street housing the building holding Laurel. Roy ran the width of the street in seconds and disappeared between two buildings, using the first external metal stairwell he found to start climbing up. Within three minutes he was on the roof of the six storey office block on the corner of Randall and Elm.

As the woman drove down the street where their van had been parked and turned left out on to the main road, she checked and re-checked he drivers side and rear-view mirror in case anyone was following them. She knew no-one was on their tail, no-one had seen them enter or leave the building they had just robbed, no-one knew their plans, no-one knew who they were – they were ghosts.

"What's this?" said her accomplice, hooking an item out of her backpack, his own having been placed in the back of the van.

"Insurance," she said, glancing at the item.

"You think we'll need it?"

"Most people don't consider insurance a necessity, until it's too late."

"Well, you're not most people," muttered her accomplice.

"Do I detect a compliment?" she retorted in a way that implied she would have found one distasteful.

"I wouldn't dare," said her accomplice, "but this plan of yours is becoming so convoluted it can only be undone with a corkscrew."

"I'm delighted you think so," she purred as she steered the van down the street, taking in the sirens, the smoke, the fires and the fighting they passed by along their route, heading down the street leading towards Starling City Docks.

Lance glanced at his watch for the fifth time and nodded to Grant. The two men, guns gripped in their right hands, slipped around the alley wall and ran along the side of the buildings on their side of the street, stopping only when they got to the junction. In order to cross the street and get into position on Elm they would be exposed to anyone looking out of the windows in the office block, which had a perfect view of the junction.

Inside the building Roy had encountered no resistance on levels six, five or four, but as he reached the third floor it was a different story.

Just a Lance was about to suggest to Grant that he would cover him and to send the younger man across the street, he could hear sounds emanating from inside the building. Sounds of a fight, automatic gunfire and raised voices. A series of flashes, from bullets being fired and ricocheting off the walls inside the building could be seen through a window on the third floor.

"Go!" hissed Lance, pushing Grant across the street as Lance followed him at speed. Within ten seconds the two men were panting for breath and in position outside the side entrance to the building on Elm.

Inside the building Arsenal made short work of knocking out the guy dressed in black with the automatic machine gun. He then wheeled around and fired an arrow down at the guy's colleague as he started his run up the stairs, firing wildly. The arrow hit the guy in the shoulder, kicking the gun out of his hand, and sending him hurtling backwards down the stairs he'd tried to run up. When Arsenal climbed down to the next level, an arrow poised in his bow, he was comforted to see the guy was knocked out in a heap at the foot of the stairs.

Roy took the next flight of stairs downwards slowly, his eyes and ears alert for any sudden movements or noise. His senses told him there were more of the men in black in the building somewhere, but he couldn't see them as he reached ground level.

Arsenal ran over to the ground floor side entrance overlooking Elm and slipped an explosive tipped arrow into his bow. Drawing the string back tight, he breathed out, steadied himself and let the bow string go. As soon as the arrow hit the door lock the resulting explosion ripped the door off of its hinges, sending sparks, smoke and wood splintering out into the street. As the debris cleared, Quentin Lance and Ted Grant stepped through the smoking gap in the wall, their guns drawn and pointing ahead of them.

"Have you found her?" yelled Lance, his eyes scanning the room. Ted did the same.

"No, but there's a basement," said Roy's deep modulated baritone as he indicated with his head towards the stairs leading downwards to their left. Grant made to move towards it, but Lance held him back. It was an obvious trap. There could be one or more guys waiting at the bottom of the stairs aiming their automatic weapons upwards just waiting for the three of them to appear.

Roy instantly assessed the situation and came to the same unspoken conclusion as Lance. There was no way any of them could attempt to walk down those stairs without getting killed; in this case height was not an advantage. Arsenal walked as near as he dare to the entrance to the basement stairs, and peered forward, but all he could see were dark shadows. He then looked up and a thought occurred to him.

As quietly as he could Ted Grant manoeuvred the heavy swivel chair with the ripped padding up to the edge of the stairwell heading down to the basement. The wooden guardrail running each side of the hole in the floor would provide no cover should the gunman below start firing if he heard a noise, so Grant sucked in his lips in a bid to keep silent as he lifted the chair off the ground.

Arsenal stood off to Grant's right, with Lance slightly behind Grant on the left, his gun drawn and ready to fire. Arsenal briefly nodded at Grant, who heaved the chair up higher and then tossed it down the stairwell. Automatic gunfire sprayed upwards, alerting Arsenal to the position of the gunman. His explosive tipped arrow already loaded, Roy let it fly heading in the direction the gunfire had come from. There was an explosion, smoke, and no more gunfire. Arsenal, another missile loaded in his bow slowly stepped down the basement stairs, followed by Lance and Grant, their guns aimed before them.

As Roy stepped over the prostrate form of the gunman at the foot of the concrete stairs, the last man standing from the kidnapper's band was standing in the semi-dark gloom of the basement with Laurel in front of him like a shield, one arm wrapped around her and pinning her to him and one pointing a pistol at her head. Ted, Lance and Arsenal assembled to stand in a tight semi-circle in front of the man, their weapons all trained on him, but also at Laurel.

"Let her go!" yelled Lance, looking at the distress on the face of his child, his anger boiling inside him.

"Do as the man says," said Roy in his voice modulated bass tone, stepping forward, pulling his bowstring even tighter. Grant glanced nervously at Arsenal as he edged closer to the assailant, fearing what he might do to Laurel if he panicked.

Laurel felt the snort of warm air against her neck from the derisive barked laugh of the man that was holding her. But she also felt the arm wrapped across her body loosen slightly. There was a possibility if she tried to free herself her attacker could shoot her, but with the assistance her three would-be saviours were presenting in front of her this might be her only chance.

With all her might she bent forward, pulling her attacker with her, then she suddenly straightened and in gaining a few inches between their bodies she was able to move her right arm and jab it back at her assailant. Laurel then whirled around and threw a well-practiced right upper cut across the man's face, sending him reeling backwards. Ted dropped his pistol on the floor and raced over to Laurel as the attacker was about to raise his gun towards her, and wrestled his shooting arm up into the air as he pressed the trigger, sending the bullet into the concrete ceiling above them. Ted then aimed a combination of short jabbing body punches into the man, and finished off with two hard hitting punches to the face that sent him sprawling to the floor unconscious.

Laurel had been pulled into the arms of her father and wrapped in an embrace a ted made light work of her attacker. As the man fell a dead weight to the floor, Laurel walked over to Ted and the two looked at each other. She reached for his right hand which was bleeding. Ted reached his left hand up to her face, where a bruise had started to form on the side of her face.

Arsenal glanced at Lance, nodded, and then turned to head back up the stairs leading from the basement. Lance held out a hand and held Roy's leather clad arm.

"Thanks," said Lance, "I guess our friend in green is having a busy night of his own as well. Does he have any idea where they're holding Oliver Queen?"

"He has a pretty good idea," growled Arsenal before heading up the stairs, acknowledging the irony of his last sentence with a wry grin.

**Chapter Eight**

Roy took the "scenic" route on his way back towards the Foundry, over the rooftops of Starling City. From this lofty vantage point he had a perfect overview of the trail of destruction that had been carved through the streets by the night's violence. Buildings and vehicles on fire, police and ambulance sirens wailing through the streets at speed, store alarms screaming out as vandals and looters ran riot; and there was the regular sound of gunfire. Roy knew the SCPD would have their work cut out for them this night, and that they would need assistance in bringing peace and order back to Starling.

Spotting two cops pinned down behind their patrol car, under heavy automatic fire from three gangbangers shooting wildly through the broken window of the convenience store opposite them, Roy didn't even hesitate. He sped down the fire escape of the building he was atop, and once at street level he fired off an exploding arrow that momentarily disorientated the gunmen. Shouting at the cops to move from their trapped position, he advanced towards the store, taking out the first gunman with only one heavy punch. A well timed arrow pierced the upper shoulder of the second gunman, sending him reeling backwards, and a roundhouse kick took out the third man.

Just as the cops were struggling to their feet and ready to thank their saviour, they realised he had already vanished into the night.

Back atop the roof of the building overlooking the convenience store, Arsenal paused for breath. There were bound to be a hundred more incidents like this before the night was done. This was no time for him to be heading back to safety at the Arrow cave. He needed to act now. Oliver's example was always one of pushing forwards, never stopping, never retreating. Oliver would never concede ground or waste time in such a situation; Oliver would make every effort to destroy the ability of his enemies to keep control.

The city was being polarised, with the majority of its inhabitants scared of a violent minority. They would be looking to the police to help they would be looking to the Arrow and his team to help.

Back at the SCPD Headquarters the frequency and number of 911 calls was still significant but Officer Spencer had noticed that calls being received appeared to have plateaued over the last thirty minutes, and she relayed this fact to Captain Lance.

Lance was watching live TV reports from across Starling City on the wall mounted screen in his office, and is sipping at a cup of coffee. He has firmly resisted the call for him to attend the Mayor's office in person to update on the situation on the streets in favour of remaining at his desk and "doing his job". With any luck he may get demoted if he keeps refusing.

Officer Spencer appeared in the open doorway of Lance's office bearing a piece of paper, and lance assumed it was another situational report for his to digest. He glanced over at Spencer and held his hand out for the paper whilst turning his attention back to the TV screen.

"Sir," began Spencer as she slowly approached his desk, but then she lost the will to finish the sentence.

Lance turned again to look at Spencer and this time he noticed the grave look on her face. He swivelled his chair, put down his coffee mug, and stood up, holding out his hand for the piece of paper that Spencer now proffered towards him.

As Lance read the words on the sheet his throat tightened. Spencer had handed him a list of names of SCPD officers who had been injured or wounded over the past two hours, the nature of their injury, and their current location. Lance grew angry as he looked at the list of cops that had been taken to Starling General or smaller triage centres in the city. As Lance got to the bottom of the list he saw a name that made him catch his breath.

"Burrows?" he breathed.

"Sergeant Burrows was shot trying to prevent a robbery in a convenience store in the Glades," said Spencer in a small voice, "it appears the bullet ripped through part of her protective vest. She's currently in surgery sir."

"Get me an update the minute she's out of theatre," growled Lance, who threw the paper down on his desk and then stormed out of his office.

Ray Palmer walked into Felicity's office at Palmer Technologies and sighed. His colleague wasn't answering emails, her mobile phone or any text messages that he had sent over the past hour hours. Ray knew that Felicity, much like himself, could often be found working late in her office on various projects, and that she was often so engrossed in her work that she ignored everything else going on around her. Her executive assistant had virtually had to drag her out of her office two weeks ago during the fire drill organised for the building as she'd been so busy she'd claimed she couldn't hear the alarm screaming through the office.

Ray's last port of call had been to check her office. The streets were too dangerous right now so he couldn't check out her apartment. He dialled her number on his mobile again and held the device to his ear. The call went straight to voicemail again. He'd already left three messages, so he terminated the call. He looked at the phone; perhaps he should call the police?

Laurel Lance charged into the open plan office on the third floor of the SCPD headquarters where her father worked, her eyes roaming around the room looking for him. Captain Lance was talking to one of his junior officers as he caught sight of his daughter, he excused himself and walked straight over to her, his expression animated.

"I thought you were going home after they checked you out at the hospital," said Lance, his brows knitting as he stared at Ted Grant who tailed in to the office straight after Laurel.

"Believe me I tried to take her home," said Grant.

"Dad is there any news about Oliver?" said Laurel, her face full of concern.

"Not yet honey. We're doing everything we can, plus I think the Arrow is on the case," said her father, placing a hand on each of her upper arms, "now go home. I will let you know the moment I hear anything."

Lance placed a kiss on his daughter's forehead, and then looked at Grant.

"Make sure she gets home safe," he said. Ted nodded and then reached out a hand to Laurel, who looked at her father and then nodded and turned to head out of the office with Ted.

Lance watched his daughter walking away for a few seconds and then headed into his office cubicle and sat down heavily in his chair. He reached for his heart medication and tipped a tablet into his palm, lifting it into his mouth to swallow.

It has been an over an hour since the kidnappers said they would release information on how to pay the ransom, and yet there has been no word from them. Laurel is safe, and all but one of the men that were holding her are in the hospital being watched over by SCPD's finest. The remaining kidnapper, the man that had tried to use her as a human shield, is currently in an interview room waiting questioning. The men that are holding Oliver Queen must know that Laurel has been freed and their co-conspirators are being held under armed guard.

Lance's gut was troubling him, and he rubbed it reflexively as if trying to soothe his problem away. In his experience kidnappers always followed a pattern, but this group were not doing that. A thought occurred to Lance which turned his gut to ice. The kidnappers didn't seem particularly concerned about getting their money, which implied that the kidnapping of Laurel and Oliver was not for financial gain, but part of some other plan. It was entirely possible that this unknown plan involved the kidnappers not caring if their captives lived or died – and if this was the case, if Lance hadn't of been able to save Laurel in time – then he may have had to face losing his daughter. Lance gulped down his fear. Laurel was now safe, but the question remained, was Oliver Queen still alive?

Ray Palmer looked at the screen of his mobile phone for the fifth time in ten minutes; there was still no word from Felicity. Palmer had already phoned the Mayor's office and the DAs office to offer any assistance he could with regard to the search for Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance; he had also offered to put up the money for their release. He felt powerless to do anything, but needed to act, so if offering up his wealth was helpful, that was what he would do. One day, thought Ray, I'll be able to offer much, much more when I get the ATOM suit operating.

Ray breathed out slowly as he looked out over the Starling skyline from Felicity's office window. He could see fires burning, a couple of police helicopters hovering over the Glades, and he imagined the terror on the faces and in the hearts of the people in the middle of this chaos. His anger was offset by his sadness at the memory of the night that his fiancée Anna died at the hands of the mirakuru soldier. He never wants to feel like that again, and he never wants anyone else to have to experience such pain.

Ray gripped his mobile phone in his hand, and knew there was one other thing that he could try in order to find Felicity; before he phoned the police to report her as missing.

Diggle cut the headlights and slowly steered the black van down an alley just off of 5th and Elm, quietly coming to a halt in the shadow in the side of a building. The street lamps in this area had failed months ago and there were no residents or workers strolling past that might see them. This was the dead end of the Glades. Ahead lay the dilapidated warehouse that Felicity had isolated as the probable location Oliver was being held. Felicity leaned over to Diggle and showed him the screen of her tablet.

"Thermal imaging indicates at least a dozen figures inside, but all but one of them seems to be at the front and east side of the warehouse," Felicity pointed at the dots on the screen inside the image, then moved her finger to point at another dot on the opposite side of the image, "this figure isn't moving."

"Oliver," muttered Diggle, looking at the screen and then at Felicity.

Suddenly her mobile phone started ringing. She reached into her pocket and connected the call.

"Captain Lance. Is Laurel OK?" said Felicity looking at Diggle.

"She's fine. Your pal in red turned up, thanks," said Lance, turning in his chair away from prying ears near his office, and lowering his voice," look, I guess your guy in green is on the trail of Oliver Queen. I just wanted to warn him, I don't think these kidnappers are after money, I think they have another motive for taking Queen, and as such they're more dangerous than he thinks they'll be."

"Thanks for the warning, I'll pass it on," said Felicity, her voice small, "take care Captain."

"You too Miss Smoak," said Lance, terminating the call.

This is not the first time that Oliver Queen had been kidnapped. Being held captive was almost a way of life on and off Lian Yu during his years away from Starling City. The first time he had been injured, disorientated and totally confused, not knowing who to trust, who had imprisoned him or why they wanted him. He'd only been on Lian Yu a few days, and thought he was on his own, adrift in the North China Sea with no hope of survival or rescue. How wrong he was. After those years when he had been supposed lost, he had returned home and had been kidnapped, along with his best friend Tommy Merlyn, on his first day back in Starling City.

And now, as it had done before over the past five years, Oliver's training was trying to kick in through the remaining haze of the drugs that his captors had injected him with. He had to stay calm, he had to listen and watch and assess his surroundings. The trouble was the drug in the tranquiliser dart, or whatever it was that the kidnappers had given him after he was knocked out, was taking longer than normal to leave his system. He'd been hit by many different sedatives in the past and they'd never had this effect on him. Oliver reflexively reached up and rubbed his fingers over the area where the dart had hit.

A memory from his past flashed into his mind. Five years ago, Oliver was in a similar positon after one of his ARGUS missions with Matsuo had gone sour and he was captured by the Chinese Triad working out of Hong Kong. They hadn't used drugs on him then, they'd just pounded on him, but he felt helpless and alone, and at the time he didn't have half of the skills and experiences that he had now.

Oliver kept his breathing regular, his mind calm. He felt his aching muscles and his bruised skin as he stood up, using the wall to steady himself. He had to remain focussed, he had to try and find a way out.

Having sketched out a simple plan of attack to Felicity, Diggle checked his two handguns once more before they embarked on their mission to save Oliver. Felicity hooked the back pack around her shoulders. The friends looked at each other, the gravity of their situation obvious to them both.

"If he's injured, you won't be able to lift him, don't even think about it," said Diggle, his eyes boring into Felicity's, "you call me and we got to plan B, no excuses."

Felicity's mobile then started ringing. Diggle, his hand on the release catch of the driver's side door, turned and stared at Felicity. Felicity mouthed the word "sorry", looked at her screen and noticed it was Ray Palmer calling. Having ignored all of his calls and texts this evening, she decided to take this call – she didn't want him phoning in the middle of her forthcoming rescue attempt.

"Ray? I'm kind of busy…," said Felicity through gritted teeth.

"Where are you?" said Ray, concern apparent in his voice.

"I'm visiting a friend," said Felicity as she looked out through the windscreen of the van towards the warehouse.

"Now?! Half the city is on fire."

"I'm in the other half. What do you want?"

"I saw on the news about Oliver Queen having been kidnapped. Your friend. I wanted to check you were OK and to let you know that I've offered the SCPD the ransom money to free him," said Ray, pacing around his office.

"I'm fine, and thank you for doing that," said Felicity softly, "I'm sure Oliver will be fine. In less than thirty minutes hopefully."

"What?" said Ray, confused.

"Nothing. Ray, I have to go," said Felicity looking at John who was raising his eyebrows at her, "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Felicity terminated the call, switched her mobile to mute, and slipped the phone in her pocket.

"Are there any other calls you're expecting, or can we get going?" said Diggle sarcastically, just as his own mobile phone started ringing. Felicity threw him a cool look over the top of her glasses.

Diggle punched his thumb against the screen of his mobile phone and held the device to his ear.

"Roy, you OK?"

"Yeah. Laurel's safe, Grant's taken her to the hospital to be checked out, but she looks fine," said Roy, "I'll work my way back to you, might be able to lend a hand."

"Thanks, but we've got it covered, get back to the Foundry, we could do with an overview," said Diggle, speaking into his mobile phone, his hot breath coming out in puffs into the cold night air.

"The overview is its carnage out here. I can't go back to the Foundry and hide underground waiting for you guys to come back, whilst there are people out on the streets that need our help," said Roy warmly.

"Roy…," warned John.

"John, I can't stand by and watch this city go under, I won't," said Roy firmly but calmly, as he terminated the call.

A frontal assault is impossible, as Diggle and Felicity are outnumbered and outgunned. John knew he needed to provide enough of a diversion at the front and east of the warehouse so that Felicity could get to Oliver at the rear of the building. Both of them getting inside the warehouse, unseen, and in a position to be able to set off a diversion and find Oliver was one thing. Being able to both get out of the building, with Oliver, was something else entirely.

John's basic plan was to use stealth and surprise, to which end John had asked Felicity to show him an aerial shot of the area around their current location on her tablet. As John leaned in to view the images Felicity was able to extract from a hacked ARGUS satellite he realised there was one option that might give them an opportunity.

"We need to go high," muttered John.

Five minutes later, John and Felicity had slipped out of the van, and quickly and quietly edged down the end of the dark alley, tracking around the rear of the warehouse. The concrete building immediately behind the warehouse had been left a shell, only having been partly constructed before the Undertaking took place and money had leaked out of the Glades. The aerial shot of the area had revealed the possibility of moving from the roof of the concrete structure to the roof of the warehouse. It was a jump, but not a substantial one.

As John and Felicity emerged on to the roof of the structure, having climbed up through the exposed storeys, their hot breath emerged from them in puffs of steam into the cold night air. John crept over to the side of the building adjacent to the warehouse and assessed the jump. Due to the angle of the buildings, and the way the construction they were standing on had been left, there was one area where an exposed concrete section had been left jutting out towards the warehouse. This was their best option, but it was exposed and it was dangerous.

There was little time to talk to Felicity and assuage any fears she may have. John decided to lead by example. He walked over to the exposed concrete "walkway", no more than two feet across and stepped on to it, then mustering his strength he jettisoned himself off the pillar and leapt.

Felicity raced over to the edge of the building, her heart beating in her chest, and saw to her relief that John was safely on the roof of the warehouse. She breathed out a sigh. Then she looked at John, his hand outstretched for her, and her eyes went as wide as saucers as she realised she was being asked to complete the same jump.

Oliver's eyesight was still bad but it was improving as the dosage of the unknown drug he had been given started to gradually wearing off. It was vital that he tried to keep alert in case his captors returned and tried to re-administer the drug; he had to be ready for anyone who came through that door next. Oliver could now see blurred images a few feet in front of him, and his motor skills were improving to the point where he could stand for a couple of minutes without weakening and falling to the floor.

Felicity edged herself gingerly into position on the concrete pillar jutting out towards the warehouse roof. She had tried not to look down but had failed, and for one brief moment she swayed, and felt bile rising. She looked over at John, whose eyes never left her face, willing her to take the leap. He stood as close as he could to the edge of the warehouse roof in order to be able to grab hold of her as she landed.

Felicity took in one long deep breath, and exhaled slowly, her eyes closed. Then she opened her eyes, and gripping both her hands into tight fists, she channelled all the power she could muster into her legs and leaped.

Felicity landed on Diggle with enough force to knock them both over. His strong arms hugged her momentarily, and then released, and the pair of them scrambled to their feet. Felicity caught her breath, pulled at the straps of her backpack, and hooked the thin hoody attached to her top over her head covering her blonde ponytail. John breathed in sharply and stared at Felicity.

"Don't worry I won't get a liking for it," said Felicity, pulling the hood forward.

"Damn right you won't," said Diggle sternly.

John and Felicity entered the warehouse like mice, creeping slowly and softly through the door leading from the roof, and descending a short flight of metal stairs. They found themselves on the darkened upper storey at the rear of the warehouse. John crept over behind a box of crates, piled head high, and peeked around the edge of the wooden stack to the ground floor below. The first floor, where they were, only came out halfway along the structure, and was balanced on steel girders, like a giant table. Walkways jutted out from both sides of the "table" storey, leading to the front of the building.

John could see men in dark military clothing milling about on the floor below him. There was a command area in the centre of the warehouse floor, with tables, and monitors, lit by arc lights posted in the four corners of the area. Radio traffic filtered up towards John but he couldn't make out any of the words. John's keen eyes took in everything, from the number of men he saw, to the type of guns they carried, to the shape and dimensions of the ground floor. A plan started to formulate in his mind about his best course of action. Diggle crept back over to Felicity, hiding in the shadows behind him.

Felicity took a quick look at the thermal imaging plans on her tablet, and pointed at the screen and then to her right, where a metal walkway ended in a set of stairs. Diggle nodded, understanding that she was indicating the route she would have to take in order to reach the space at the rear of the building where they believed Oliver to be held. John then pointed in opposite direction, and the walkway that led to a flight of stairs leading down to the east side of the building.

John reached out his hand to grasp Felicity's upper arm, which he squeezed reassuringly. Felicity looked up at Diggle, her eyes shining with emotion, and grinned once before turning and heading towards her walkway.

Felicity felt like time had slowed down a she descended the metal stairs to the ground floor. She placed her foot so carefully on each step, praying that there wouldn't be a creak that would alert anyone patrolling around at the rear of the warehouse. At least once on the way down the stairs she looked at the screen of her tablet, hoping that all the red dots, bar one, would still be located towards the front and east of the building, even though that would mean the odds were stacked against Diggle.

At the bottom of the stairs, Felicity crept towards a dark open doorway, and stopped looking behind her, and quickly around the doorway, before she stepped through and entered a cold concrete corridor that ran the length of the rea of the warehouse. At the end there was a metal door on the right, with bolts top and bottom. Felicity paused and took another look around her before she ran over to the metal door.

Oliver froze mid step as he was slowly pacing around the room he was held in. He could have sworn that he heard a scuff of feet outside the door of his cell. Limping slowly he edged away from the door and leaned against the concrete wall nearest to him. There was another noise, faint, like metal scrapping against metal. Oliver calmed his breathing and balled a fist, ready for anything that might come through the door.

Slowly the door to his cell opened, and in silhouette he saw a slender figure, their head covered by a hood. The figure was weakly lit from behind by a light in the corridor outside; the face completely shrouded in dark shadow. Oliver stared, blinked and stared again, the haziness of his vision finding the image difficult to discern, and yet the image was strangely familiar.

"Roy?" said Oliver.

"What? Oh the hood. No, it's me," whispered Felicity as she dashed over to Oliver.

Having managed to get to the ground floor of the warehouse undetected, Diggle crouched behind a large metal container resting against the western side of the warehouse. He watched the men moving around in the centre of the warehouse floor no more than ten feet away from him. He kept his breathing calm, and moved his gun from his right to his left hand. He reached his right hand into his jacket pocket and brought out one of Oliver's exploding arrow heads, depressing the small trigger switch on the side. John counted to three and then hurled the arrow head across the room. As it landed, men threw themselves to the floor, or behind equipment as the explosion took out one of the arc lights in a shower of sparks.

John took the opportunity in the confusion, with all eyes in the opposite direction, to take a short crouched run towards the vacant desk bearing a military style laptop. He planted another of Oliver's arrow heads on the laptop and then dashed forwards to hide behind some crates. The second explosion, coming so close after the first, and from the opposite direction caused further disorientation amongst the men, some fired their weapons off with no target in sight.

Under a cacophony of automatic gunfire, Diggle edged towards the side of the crates he was hiding behind, and fired off two quick shots, hitting one man in the upper chest and catching the man beside him in the shoulder, both fell spinning on the floor by the force of the shots. John ran head down, for his life behind the crates, throwing another explosive arrow head behind him, fooling the remaining gunmen into thinking he was elsewhere. John stepped out again and managed to get another couple of shots off, hitting another gunman, before he stumbled across an automatic weapon dropped by one of the men he had injured. Suddenly there were arms grabbing at him from behind and a punch to the kidneys. John winced but was able to wrestle the guy behind him over his shoulder, bending at the waist and flipping him heavily to the floor before him. The guy was fit and trained, and he got to his feet quickly. John threw two quick and heavy punches at his face, and blood seeped across his cut lip. John followed through with two punches to the stomach before he was again attacked from behind. Diggle threw an elbow back into the soft body of the assailant, winding him and then spun around to pummel him with a three punch routine. The guy fell to his knees after the second punch and then was out cold with the third. John quickly scooped up the automatic weapon, and dashed for cover under a hail of bullets and muzzle flashes.

"Are you injured?" said Felicity, grabbing Oliver's arm and peering into his face. She noticed something seemed to be wrong with his eyes.

"I can't see properly, they drugged me," said Oliver, trying to stand upright.

Felicity scooped her back pack off her shoulders and wrenched at the zip. She located the pouch of herbs Oliver had brought back from Lian Yu, and a bottle of water, and forced both into his hands.

"Here, try this," she breathed, watching him as he ingested the herbs and swallowed a huge glug of water. She took the herb pouch back off of him and slipped it back in the bag.

"Where's Dig?" said Oliver.

"He's kind of busy," said Felicity as the unmistakable sound of gunfire could be heard, "c'mon lean on me. We have to get out of here. The van's parked out back."

Felicity, an arm around Oliver's back and gripping the side of his waist, steered him towards the open doorway of the cell, where they paused, Felicity looking out into the corridor outside both ways.

The pair of them struggled along the corridor to the dark opening that led into the main area of the warehouse. As they stepped through Felicity saw the tall bald man before Oliver did, as he could only see a large blur approaching from their left, but both of them heard the shot fired in their direction, shards from the concrete wall behind them taking the brunt of the force. Felicity threw Oliver down to the floor on her right, slipped a hand into her pocket and drew out a small puck like object which she bent to skim along the floor in the direction of the man who was raising his pistol in her direction. Felicity threw herself on top of Oliver.

"Cover your ears," she hissed.

The puck exploded in sound and fury, sending sparks flying and forcing the gunman to immediately drop his gun and ram his hands over his ears as the sonic blast from the device filled the space with a deafening noise. It was one of Sara Lance's sonic weapons that she had used when in action as the Canary; the device that Felicity had grabbed from the Arrow cave earlier. Oliver and Felicity having been prepared for the sonic scream, still winced as the first wave of the device flowed over them.

Felicity turned her head towards the gunman, saw he was totally disorientated, and leapt to her feet, dragging Oliver up, and cupping an arm around him, headed for the exit door twenty feet to their right.

"Thank you Sara," thought Felicity as she stumbled under the weight of Oliver but kept on moving.

Felicity and Oliver staggered through the metal door into the cold night beyond. Oliver did his best not to lean too heavily on his rescuer, but the herbs he'd ingested were starting to have an effect and he knew he was close to passing out. They were no more than twenty yards away from the black van parked along the alley when Felicity reached up to her ear and contacted John via Bluetooth.

"John we're clear, heading for the van," grunted Felicity as she staggered slightly under Oliver's weight.

"I'm on my way," yelled Diggle above the sounded of gunfire.

Diggle brought a heavy punch down on the head of the man he'd been wrestling with when Felicity called, sending him to the ground. Diggle then ran over behind some crates and headed back towards the rear of the warehouse, stopping to place two magnetic explosive devices to the metal girders holding up the first storey platform above his head. Diggle then ran with his head down, whilst wild shots rang out in his direction towards the same exit door that Felicity and Oliver had just used.

Felicity bundled Oliver into the back of the van and slammed the doors shut, before jumping into the driver's seat up front and turning the ignition key bringing the vehicle to life. She then rammed the gear stick into reverse and slammed her foot on the accelerator, charging the vehicle backwards towards the rear of the warehouse.

Suddenly there was a massive explosion, the light from which was reflected in Felicity's glasses a she looked through her driver's side wing mirror. Felicity slammed her foot on the brakes, sending Oliver tumbling in the rear of the van.

"What was that?!" winced Oliver as he tried to right himself into a sitting position.

"Half the building just fell down," breathed Felicity, scanning through the windscreen as smoke, fire and debris fell before her eyes to the ground.

"Can you see Digs?"

"No"

Felicity opened the driver's side door.

"No Felicity, you can't go out there!" said Oliver surging forward and grasping hold of her arm.

"I have to. John!" she screamed into the smoke shrouding the crumbling structure.

Suddenly the passenger door of the van was wrenched open and Diggle leapt into the seat.

"Get in here and drive!" yelled Diggle.

Felicity rammed herself back into the driver's seat, dragging the door shut, and stamped her foot down on the accelerator, shifting the gear stick and aiming the vehicle away up the alley from the burning warehouse.

The van bounced violently as Felicity wrenched the wheel to the left as she exited the alley and levelled the vehicle out on the main road. Adrenaline was coursing through her system, her yes flicking from her rear view mirror, to the view out through the windscreen, to the driver's side mirror constantly, but she still managed to keep just below the speed limit. Oliver lay flat on the floor of the van, sweating profusely and grimacing as the herbs coursed through his system and worked to free him of the effects of the drug he'd been given.

"Are you OK?" said John to Felicity

"Me? I thought you'd got crushed to death, are you OK?" said Felicity casting a couple of quick looks across to Diggle. She could see that he had bruise forming on his cheek and there was a bleeding cut on his forehead.

"I'm fine. How's Oliver?"

They drugged him, his eyesight impaired. Hopefully the fantasy island herbs will work it out," said Felicity.

"Get him back to the Foundry, I need to find Roy," said John, punching the screen on his mobile phone.

"No, I can help," wheezed Oliver.

"Oliver you're in no fit state to do anything right now. You're sweating out a river," she said as she turned left on to the next main street, heading towards the Glades.

"I'm going with Dig," winced Oliver as he struggled to raise himself up on to his knees.

John turned to face Oliver in the back of the van.

"Felicity's right. God knows this city needs all the help it can get right now, but you are nowhere near the top of your game."

Oliver held on to the back of the passenger seat and looked into John's eyes, realised he was right, and dipped his head briefly in acknowledgement before slumping into a sitting position on the floor of the van.

"Roy, where are you?" said John, holding his mobile up to his ear. Having got the answer to his question he instructed Felicity where to drive to.

Five minutes later Felicity pulled the van over to the kerb. John took a look back into the back of the van at Oliver, who managed a short nod and a silent look that expressed everything. Felicity leant across to John and placed a hand on his arm.

"Get in, get out, stay safe," she said, her eyes staring into Diggle's.

"I'll do my best. Call me when you're back at the Foundry," said John, who opened the passenger door of the van, slipped out, and slammed it shut. Felicity looked out and watched John for a few seconds running towards the end of the street where a fire was burning in a six storey building. The sound of glass breaking and an occasional gunshot could be heard. Felicity breathed out a short sigh and turned the van around, heading for the Arrow cave.

Diggle found Roy assisting a group of police officers in fighting off a small mob vandalising a street full of shops. Once the hoodlums had either been knocked unconscious, handcuffed, or sent scurrying into the night, John and Roy paused for breath.

"Felicity's taking Oliver back to the Foundry. He's OK, just wearing off a drug," said Diggle, "she did good."

"Way to go IT girl. I didn't think she'd actually do it," said Roy, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"Never judge a book," muttered Diggle.

"C'mon you were as worried as I was it wouldn't work," said Roy, looking up and down the street, wondering which way to go now. A scream rang out to the east, followed by several gunshots.

"True. But I also knew that if there was one person in this city who was willing to go to any length to rescue Oliver Queen it was Felicity Smoak. Let's go," said John as he started running towards the sound of the gunfire.

Felicity swerved to avoid traffic and ran several red lights in her effort to get back to the Foundry in record time. Not only did Oliver need to be back in the Arrow cave so he could recuperate better, but John and Roy were going to need all of Felicity's IT equipment to help them through the next few hours on the streets of Starling. Her expression was one of focus and determination as she steered the van through the streets of the Glades. Oliver was still sweating out the drug he'd been given by the kidnappers, and though he didn't say much Felicity could tell from the odd grunt in the back of the van that he was feeling its effects.

Once the van was parked in a semi-derelict lock up next door to Verdant nightclub, Felicity helped Oliver out of the vehicle, and hooking an arm around his waist, assisted him through the secret side entrance to the Arrow cave. Staggering slightly, she managed to deposit him on the first chair they came to, before she raced to her workstation, slipping off her back pack and flinging it under her workbench. Inserting her Bluetooth ear piece she contacted Diggle.

"John, we're back," said Felicity, her eyes scanning the CCTV footage she was frantically calling up on to her three monitors.

Twenty minutes later, having drunk more water, Oliver was feeling strong enough to stand on his own two feet for the first time in several hours. He straightened himself, and pushed a hand into his lower back, wincing slightly, as the bruising around his ribs was still tender. Oliver stepped slowly over to Felicity's workstation. Without looking at him, or waiting for him to ask, but instantly knowing that he wanted it, she fed him the latest update on the situation across Starling City.

"SCPD are reporting a significant decrease in 911 calls over the last hour. The two major fires in the Glades are now under control; there are about a dozen smaller fires still burning. I hacked the Fire Service internal communications network and they have crews covering all of them. There are still a few areas of the Glades reporting rioting, a couple of high end stores downtown were robbed, but on the whole, things are definitely less scary than they were two hours ago," said Felicity, finally tearing her eyes away from her screens to look up to Oliver's profile. There was his tell-take scowl, his brows knitted slightly and his lips set firm, as he looked at the imagery relayed live from the streets outside.

"John and Roy?" said Oliver.

"Fine. They just helped stop an armed robbery on Bleaker Street," said Felicity, pointing to the middle monitor where black and white footage from a CTTV camera high on a building showed Diggle, wearing his black ski mask, and Arsenal watched as a couple of cops manhandled three gang bangers into the back of a police van.

There was a silent pause as Felicity and Oliver watched the images on screen. Felicity smiled as Diggle looked up towards the camera, as if he knew he was being watched by his Team Arrow colleague.

Yet again Oliver was impressed with Felicity's abilities and her unending capacity to find the energy to do the impossible. She looked up at him. From the serious expression on his face, she knew that he had something of importance to say, and she wasn't sure she was going to like what that something of importance was going to be.

"Felicity," Oliver's voice was soft, his expression quietly intense.

"Oh I know that tone," said Felicity, "and that look. We're about to have serious conversation."

"About earlier..," started Oliver, but Felicity cut him off.

"Before I get the lecture, before you say what I know you're going to say, let me say something. Yes, I know our date ended in disaster, yet again, but that doesn't mean fate or the universe is trying to tell us that the whole idea was a cosmic mistake," said Felicity, her words emerging from her mouth in a flurry.

"When I said, about earlier, I meant when you came to rescue me at the warehouse," said Oliver.

"Oh. Well, you needed rescuing," said Felicity, her cheeks colouring at her mistake.

"Diggle shouldn't have let you come for me. It was too dangerous," muttered Oliver softly.

"I let me come, and the words you were actually looking for are thank you," said Felicity.

Oliver sighed slowly, and let his head fall forward. He leant down on the steel workbench and turned his head to Felicity, who looked directly at Oliver.

"Thank you," said Oliver softly, "but you could have got hurt, or worse."

"Oliver, all hell was breaking lose on the streets. The SCPD couldn't cope. With Roy helping to get Laurel, there was no other option. I had to help Dig."

"Get Laurel? From where?" said Oliver, confused.

"Laurel was kidnapped the same time you were," said Felicity, as Oliver straightened up, she turned her chair to fully face him, her tone was assertive, "she's fine. Roy helped her father and Ted Grant to rescue her."

Felicity searched Oliver's face as he digested this information. She always knew that he'd had a blind spot when it came to Laurel Lance, his former girlfriend, and that their lives would always be entangled in some way, but with the events of earlier that evening still fresh in her mind, when she and Oliver had edged closer to being closer than they'd ever been, she was understandably anxious about Oliver's reaction to the news of Laurel's capture and rescue. Felicity could see that Oliver was concerned and angry about the news, but as Oliver placed a hand on Felicity's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, looking down into her eyes, she saw the warmth of his feelings towards her and felt relieved.

**Chapter Nine**

In the dark, cold night air circulating around Starling City Docks one day turned to another at the stroke of midnight. The woman and her accomplice stood watching a huge ship glide into the dock at Berth Three. Armed guards with automatic weapons were dotted around the ship, scanning the wharf side and the vessel achingly slowly glided to a full halt. Once secured to the dock, the gangway was put in place and a thick set man dressed in heavy military clothing stepped down to the dock. The woman walked out of the shadows she had been hiding in by the warehouse on the berth side and greeted him perfunctorily. Arrangement had already been made to unload the ship's cargo and transport it to various locations across Starling. As the two figures, bathed in the glow of the ship's lights stood at the foot of the gangway, a small fleet of trucks emerged along the berth side, to park and await their cargo.

Leaving the men on board and in the trucks to complete their task, the woman walked back towards her accomplice, now secreted back inside the black van they had arrived in thirty minutes earlier, and speed dialled a number in her mobile phone directory. As she slipped into the driver's seat of the van she placed the mobile phone in the hands free bracket, and tapped the button onscreen that broadcast the voice at the other end through speakerphone.

"Our contact at the docks made sure the ship arrived safely. The security guards here weren't an issue," said the woman coolly, "the mission in Starling is complete, our operatives are heading out."

"A very successful night, you are to be congratulated," said the voice of her employer, his voice still disguised by the amplifier.

"I don't plan for anything other than success," said the woman.

"And now, all is in place for the success that will now come…." The woman punched her screen and cut off the man mid-flow.

"He won't like that," muttered her accomplice.

"Do I look like I care," sighed the woman, turning the key in the ignition and manoeuvring the van towards the dock exit. As the van pulled out on to the street leading away from the docks, and back into central Starling, the woman's mobile phone trilled. She leaned across to the hands free bracket and tapped the screen. It was Rivers.

"We may have a problem," he began.

Having called Captain Lance to apprise him of the fact that Team Arrow had rescued Oliver Queen, the message was soon relayed via Lance to both Oliver's sister, Thea Queen, and Lance's daughter, Laurel, much to the great relief of both women.

Though Laurel had initially acceded to her father's and Ted's wishes to go home and get some rest, she couldn't remain a passive observer in the crisis any longer. Watching a regular diet of news reports flooding in through her TV about the situation on the streets of Starling City, was curdling her stomach and her inactivity was aggravating the situation.

Ted's expression said it all when he saw Laurel emerge from her bedroom dressed head to toe in black leather, wearing a blonde wig and an eye mask. As ted stood up from the couch he'd been sitting on and stepped towards her, Laurel held up a hand towards him, palm out.

"You can stay here, or you can come with me," said Laurel firmly, "but the one thing you can't do is stop me."

Ted opened his mouth as if to start to form words, but he instantly knew that anything he said would fall on deaf ears. Laurel took the look of resignation on Ted's face as his reply.

"Good, c'mon," said Laurel.

Having relayed the events at the warehouse to the woman, Rivers had told her of the development that might put a dent in the night's success. One of the men from the warehouse had been captured by the SCPD and had been taken to police HQ, and two injured men from the building on Elm, where Laurel Lance had been held, had been taken to Starling General Hospital. It was possible that all three may talk in order to relieve their perilous situation. The woman realised they wouldn't know much, they didn't even know her name, but they might be able to provide a description of her; and all three men knew Reeves. The woman hated loose threads being left, all her successes to date had been contained and complete; her reputation and therefore her future employability depended on this remaining so. The woman thought quickly.

"Can you handle the guy at the precinct?" she said as she turned right in the direction of Starling General Hospital.

"Consider it done," said Rivers.

"In that case I'll pay a visit to the sick," said the woman.

Roy Harper, dressed as Arsenal, and John Diggle, his black ski mask covering his features, worked like a well-oiled machine, covering each other's backs as they made headway through the streets of the Glades. Both knew the situation was improving and that street by street the SCPD were gaining the ascendancy from the rioters, looters, gang-bangers and vandals that had taken to the Glades.

As Arsenal brought another looter to the ground with a heavy punch, Diggle was dragging a semi-conscious rioter towards a police car parked at the end of the road. As he handed the guy over to the cops he saw that someone else was also making a "deposit" to SCPD's finest. John's eyes started at Laurel dressed as the Canary as she flung a man at the feet of the nearest officer.

Canary, followed by Ted Grant, also wearing a ski mask, walked over to John and the three of them walked out of earshot of the police officers, who were busy cuffing the suspects that had been brought to them.

"Oliver's not going to like this," said John, looking directly in to Laurel's masked eyes.

"Oliver's not here. You need all the help you can get," said Laurel firmly.

"She's right," said Roy who had joined them.

A scream and a gunshot nearby prompted Laurel to whip her head in the direction of both noises, her blonde tresses swinging, before she started running towards both sounds. Wildcat paused for a beat to look at Roy, a look that said it all, before he ran after Laurel.

John sighed and then he and Roy headed in an adjacent direction, always heading towards the Foundry, always alert to any danger.

Their missions completed, the operatives had packed up, destroyed any evidence of their work, and are heading away from Starling, or crawling back under the rocks from which they emerged 48 hours ago. Just as quickly as the conflagration of fire and violence had started, it began to recede. Like collapsible electrical circuits, their task complete and their energy spent, they switched off and became redundant. By the time that law enforcement agencies and officials would begin sifting through the evidence of what happened over the last few days, these operatives would have moved on, changed name, or blurred into a memory or a whisper.

Oliver's frustration at not being able to get out into the field was obvious as he increasingly paced around near Felicity's workbench as his strength began to return to him. He stopped intermittently between pacing and looked at the monitors on the workbench relaying CCTV images and police reports, which Felicity hacked from the SCPD. Oliver could see that the tide was turning, but Roy and John were still in the thick of things, and he could only feel that his presence alongside them would not only help to keep them safe but shorten the duration of the chaos that had crippled Starling City over the past 24 hours.

In between firing test arrows, which all went wide of the target, and trying to ignore his dizzy nausea, Oliver asked for updates from Felicity on the whereabouts of John and Roy. After the third request for an update, Felicity spun around in her chair, her mouth open to cut him a curt reply. She paused, closed her eyes, took a breath and then opened her eyes and suggested that Oliver should call Thea.

Oliver winced, not through any physical pain, but at the realisation that he shouldn't have needed a reminder to have called his sister. Oliver, picked up his mobile phone, made the call, and spent a few minutes reassuring Thea he was fine. He lied that he was being checked out by a doctor at the precinct and then was going to spend time giving a statement to officers about his kidnapping. Oliver asked Thea to stay at her apartment until the trouble on the streets was over.

Felicity, entirely aware of Oliver's frustrations, was still reeling from the series of events of the past few hours, of being at her apartment with Oliver and about to take their relationship to another level, before they were both hit by tranquiliser darts. She knew that there was a conversation to be had between the two of them when things had settled down, and she was half dreading it.

Oliver walked over to the punch dummy on the opposite side of the room and began pounding on it. With every punch he was willing his eyesight and his strength to improve.

Back at SCPD Headquarters Lance has had little luck with the suspect brought in from the warehouse, where the Arrow and his team rescued Oliver Queen. Having finally identified the guy as Jake Matthews Lance had read his previous arrest warrants with some interest. It had been a while since he'd seen a perp's sheet run to three pages. Waters was obviously a long-term and hardened criminal, but his previous MO didn't put him in the frame as an organiser or a ring-leader, he was more of a follower, a hired hand. And if he was a follower, then there was someone at the end of the food chain that had employed him, and Lance wanted badly to meet that person.

After another thirty minutes of questioning, with some heavy negotiations with the on-call duty lawyer, a name finally, and very reluctantly, emerged from Matthews as the guy in control at the warehouse; Rivers. Lance made a beeline for Officer Spencer's desk to ask her to get all the information she could, from every law enforcement agency, on anyone on their watch list by the name Rivers. Lance then walked into his office, ignoring his ringing desk phone, and made a call on his mobile phone to Felicity Smoak.

The call from Lance triggered a flurry of activity from Felicity, who began hacking into a variety of law enforcement agencies, both domestic and international, searching for the elusive Rivers. When her search successfully produced a photo and background history from the FBI's database, she started at the screen, realising that Rivers was the man at the warehouse who had shot at her and Oliver in their attempt to escape. Having knocked out Rivers with Sara Lance's sonic device and well-timed crack across the head with a wooden plank, and having seen the part of the warehouse where they had left him having fallen to a smouldering ruin, Felicity now knew that Rivers file could be updated with the word "Deceased".

Felicity fed the details of Rivers past history and his involvement in the events in Starling into her working algorithm programme for identifying and postulating criminal activity; even though he was dead she reasoned the information might be useful in identifying other men working for him who may still be walking the streets of Starling.

Lance, unaware that Rivers was lying in the warehouse with a ton of mangled steel on top of him, has issued an all-points bulletin to his immediate team, to be circulated to every SCPD officer, for the immediate detainment and capture of Rivers. Officer Spencer had discovered his file via a request to the FBI; although she had taken the official route, rather than hacking into the database like Felicity Smoak, so the results had taken longer.

The reports now flooding into SCPD Headquarters were far more positive. Suspects were being arrested across the city and taken to local precincts. Iron heights prison, where a mini-riot had started, had returned to normal and had opened its spare cells for the SCPD as their local jails were becoming overcrowded. Calls to the 911 emergency service were greatly reduced, and lance was now getting only one call an hour from the Mayor's office to demand a sit rep. Lance was still on edge however, he knew he couldn't relax until every officer was accounted for, every suspect locked up, and until he had news from the hospital about the condition of Sergeant Burrows.

The woman and her accomplice easily made it into Starling General Hospital in the confusion that still raged in that building. The streets across the city might be coming under police control, but the victims of the night's violence were still arriving in large numbers and being treated in mini triage areas set up around the hospital. In the general melee of people and emergencies it was easy for the woman and he accomplice to slip into a staff changing room and equip themselves with a disguise that would allow them unfettered access to all areas of the hospital.

Having gleaned information from a nearby workstation computer, the woman, dressed as a nurse in blue scrubs, discovered that the two men they were seeking were on the fourth floor of the hospital. She led her accomplice, disguised in a doctor's white lab coat, to the nearest elevator, and punched the button marked with a 4. There was every chance that the men they sought were under armed guard, but that wouldn't stop her or her accomplice from completing their mission.

Twenty minutes later, having silenced both injured men via injection of a lethal dose of sedative, all under the watchful notice of SCPD officers who gave little notice to healthcare workers going about their business, the woman and her accomplice exited the hospital via a rear door and made for their black van parked in the loading bay.

"Where now?" said her accomplice a he settled into the passenger seat.

"Out of this city," said the woman as she gunned the vehicle to life, "for now."

Rivers arrived at SCPD Headquarters the same time as the woman and her accomplice had reached Starling General. This building was in a similar state of chaos, with officers streaming around on all floors. Rivers managed to get in to the locker room with moderate ease via a rear entrance, but he took a little while trying to find a uniform that would fit him due to his size.

Once in disguise he made his way up to the floor where the jail cells were located. He isolated the CCTV camera pointed at the desk where on the Duty Sergeant was based and then made light__work of knocking the man on duty out cold. Consulting the paperwork on the desk and the SCPD computer terminal nearby, Rivers discovered that Matthews was in cell five. He picked up the keys to that cell from the key board on the wall by the doorway leading through into the cell corridor, unlocked cell five, and stepped inside. The gunshot from the silencer pierced the air and the echo bounced off the thick concrete walls of the cell. Rivers stepped back outside, closed the cell door, and headed for the rear exit.

As Rivers was exiting the precinct he suddenly realised something. Ever since the attack on the warehouse, the image of the small blonde woman who had rescued Oliver Queen had been stuck in his brain; at the time he had thought that he had recognised her, but could not place them ever having met. Now he recalled why.

Rivers had been unsure about the woman's plans to kidnap Oliver Queen, the failed businessman and bankrupt. Having done some research he had thought Ray Palmer would be a better option, but the woman had dismissed his suggestion and ordered him to concentrate on capturing Queen. Rivers research however, had brought up one Felicity Smoak, one of the Executives at Palmer Technology. The headquarters of which was only ten minutes' drive away.

The high rise building containing Palmer Technologies headquarters was largely deserted at this time of the early morning, but Rivers still encountered two security guards at the front entrance__when he arrived. He banged on the glass door and held a hand up in greeting to one of the guards as he approached the locked door. Dressed as he was like a police officer, he was let into the building and he walked over to the guard's desk, tailed by his doorman, making small talk about him being on patrol in the area and checking on things. When the two guards were only feet apart Rivers quickly attacked both men with a volley of punches, slamming one into the granite wall of the foyer, and pushing the other's head through his CCTV security monitor. Quickly consulting the building's directory, Rivers headed for the elevator and punched the button for the thirty-ninth floor.

Three minutes later Rivers walked into Felicity's corner office, which was in darkness, and strode over to her desk. He looked in drawers and under papers looking for any clues as to her home address.

"Can I help you officer?" said a friendly voice as the overhead lights came on.

Rivers looked up and saw Ray Palmer, CEO of Palmer Technologies walking slowly towards him.

"I was looking for Miss Smoak's home address, I don't suppose you have it?" said Rivers.

"Is she OK? I haven't spoken to her for a couple of hours," said Ray, obvious concern written on his face. Rivers stepped from behind Felicity's desk and walked slowly over to stand in front of Palmer.

"I'll settle for her cell phone number," growled Rivers.

"Err, could I see some ID," said Ray, a little confused by the policeman's behaviour.

"Sure," said Rivers, as he looked down to his left, then curling a fist brought it up sharply across Palmer's face. Ray was knocked backwards as Rivers launched another fist at his head, followed by a boot to the chest. Ray fell to the floor in a heap. As Palmer looked up at his assailant all he saw was the fist heading for his face again, and then everything went black.

Rivers rifled in Palmer's pockets, found his mobile phone and located Felicity's number in the directory. Rivers fired off a quick text.

The text came through from Ray seconds later. Felicity read it and then grabbed hold of her bag and coat, muttering under her breath as she picked both up.

"Will you be OK?" said Felicity as she slipped into her overcoat, "promise me you won't head out the moment I leave."

"Felicity the streets are still dangerous," said Oliver stepping towards her.

"I'll be fine. There have been no reports of trouble in the business district for over an hour. The algorithm's still working fine, and John and Roy are a couple of blocks away and coping just fine. Rest up, I'll be back before you know it," said Felicity placing a hand on Oliver's arm and squeezing it gently. She then walked quickly towards the rear of the Arrow cave.

Oliver returned to the dummy column and started pounding on it again, before walking over to the display case holding his bow. He lifted it up and picked up an arrow. Walking over to the test area, he stood, his bow pulled taut, and breathed out slowly. The haze in his vision was much better but he still felt dizzy and his vision swam slightly as he readied his aim. Letting loose the arrow Oliver saw with satisfaction that this time at least he'd hit the target – nowhere near centre as he normally did, but at least he'd hit it.

Lance leaned back in his chair in his office and looked at the monitor on his desk. The Mayor was standing at a podium flanked by the Chief of Police and the Fire Marshall, plus a few other suited and booted Aldermen, and was making a statement to camera, being broadcast live on every local news channel. In effect the mayor was telling everyone the crisis was over, that Starlign City and its residents had endured but triumphed over another disaster, and he thanked everyone for their efforts and their courage.

Lance knew it wasn't over just yet, there were officers still risking their lives on the streets trying to defend the residents of Starling, and it would take several hours before that ended. He also knew that the tidy up operation would take days if not weeks, and that those who lost homes and those who had lost loved one's might take months to recover, if they ever did. It wasn't over.

Officer Spencer was suddenly in the open doorway of his office. Her face looked tired and grim, Lance wondered if she was bringing news about his Sergeant.

"Burrows?" said Lance weakly.

"She's out of surgery sir. She's OK," said Spencer, a small smile appearing on her face, the first he'd seen in hours.

Lance breathed out a relieved sigh.

"I also have some news on Rivers," said Spencer.

Oliver's mobile rang, and he strode over to Felicity's workbench to answer it. Lance's face appeared on the screen, so Oliver clicked on the software that disguised his voice.

"Captain," said the Arrow's gravelly burr.

"You're probably as busy as I am, but I thought you might like to know we have a bead on Rivers," said Lance.

"I know where Rivers is Detective, he's under a building in the Glades," said Oliver.

"Well not according to a patrolman and a traffic camera in downtown Starling he's not," said Lance, "we just got sight of him in the business district, down near the Palmer Technology building."

"Are you sure?" said Oliver, looking at the monitors on Felicity's desk, and seeing before him the images that Felicity's algorithm had highlighted, of Rivers face, and then a figure matching his description but dressed like a police officer, walking into the foyer of Palmer's building – the building that Felicity had gone to.

"Like yours, my tech girl is very rarely wrong," said Lance, "if there's…"

"Gotta go Captain," said Oliver as he terminated the call and ran to suit up.

Five minutes later, Oliver was steering his motorcycle erratically at speed through the streets of Starling heading towards Palmer Technologies HQ and making a call through to Felicity. A call she does not answer.

A couple of streets away from the Palmer Building Oliver dialled John and explained that Felicity was in trouble. John's concern was obvious for both Oliver and for Felicity, but his protests about Oliver's ability to fight went unheeded; there was no other option for Oliver; poor vision or not, he had to go and help her.

Felicity stepped out of the elevator and strode into her office, expecting to see Ray Palmer and his difficult problem that couldn't wait and needed her urgent attention, according to his text message, waiting for her. What she found instead was Ray Palmer unconscious on the floor of her office. As she raced towards him a shot rang out from behind her and she ducked instinctively and raced to hide behind the couch. Another shot rang out and embedded itself in the couch.

"That was a nice trick at the warehouse blondie," said Rivers as he walked into the office and edged ever closer to the couch.

Felicity gulped down her mounting fear and tried to breathe properly, her eyes started to fill with tears. What was she going to do? Had he killed Ray? She needed help.

She then heard a sound that meant her prayers were answered; the sound of an arrow flying through the air.

The arrow missed its target and embedded itself in Felicity' desk on the other side of the room, but it did have a desired effect of distracting Rivers away from targeting Felicity. She took the opportunity to move from the couch and dash over to her desk where she grabbed hold of the phone and dialled 911, asking for police and an ambulance for Ray.

Oliver launched himself forward at Rivers before he could fire off a shot, his gun spilling out of his hand and bouncing off the wall to fall on the floor. The two men began trading punches and kicks. Rivers was a trained fighter, so it would have been no easy task for Oliver to best him when he was in full health, but with his vision still impaired and his strength not at full force, Oliver took the brunt of several punches harder than he would normally. Oliver's bow was knocked out of his hand and came crashing down a few feet away as the two men continued to spar at close quarter.

Felicity's eyes searched around for any way to help Oliver. Grabbing hold of her chair, she manoeuvred it on its wheels until it was as close as she dared go to both men, then she pushed it forward with all her might. The chair struck Rivers, who staggered and was caught by a heavy punch from Oliver. Rivers fell to the floor, right by his gun. He reached for the weapon and fired of a shot in Felicity's direction. Hitting her in the upper arm she whipped round and fell down, a small shriek of pain emanating from her as she fell.

Oliver flew at Rivers in a rage. A series of punches and kicks from Oliver, though traded back from his opponent, were having a more debilitating effect on Rivers, and having brought Rivers finally to his knees, Oliver turned, picked his bow up off of the floor, and swivelled quickly, bring the full force of the bow across River's face, knocking him out cold. Oliver paused to breathe, and briefly stopped to check on Ray Palmer, still lying on the floor, unconscious but breathing, before running towards Felicity's desk. She lay on her side, her right hand holding her upper left arm where the bullet had hit her, blood seeping from between her fingers.

"Can you stand? We have to get out of here," said Oliver as the sound of police sirens could be heard outside.

Ray Palmer opened an eye and winced, then opened the other one and did the same. The light in the office and the pain in his head was quite a combination. He breathed out a groan and sat up gently. Once his vision came into focus he realised he was sitting, and had been lying, on the couch in Felicity's office.

As he wondered why he had chosen to fall asleep here, the sudden realisation dawned on him that he hadn't been sleeping; he had been knocked unconscious by a policeman looking for Felicity. Palmer patted his pockets, located his phone and dialled Felicity's number. It went straight to voicemail, but not the voicemail that he had heard previously. Ray listened with a curious expression on his face to a recording of what sounded like a drunken Felicity Smoak.

"Hi this is me, you know, Felicity, but you know that because I'm the person you dialled. I'm not picking up the phone, but you know that because this is a recording. So you leave a message and I'll call you back later when I am picking up the phone….oh, and if this is Ray Palmer, I'm fine, completely fine, totally fine. Bye."

Suddenly there were half a dozen police officers in the doorway of Felicity's office, their guns drawn, and Ray saw out of the corner of his eye that there was a bloodied cop lying on the floor on the other side of the room.

Captain Quentin Lance walked into the hospital room where Sergeant Burrows was propped up on her pillows, wired up to monitors. A nurse passed him as he entered and asked him to keep questions to a minimum. Lance assured the nurse he wasn't here to grill his officer about what happened to her, only to check on her health.

As Lance walked up to the side of Burrows bed, he noticed she looked pale, but as she looked up at him he could see her eyes held their usual fire.

"How's it going," said Burrows weakly.

"I'm supposed to be asking you that," said Lance, who grinned tightly, "we've got it under control don't worry, but there's going to be a hell of a lot of paperwork to get through so I need you back as soon as possible. I'm useless at that kind of thing."

"No problem, sir," said Burrows, a smile creeping up the side of her face.

"I gotta get back out there, but I just wanted to drop by and check on you," said Lance.

"Yeah well don't you worry, my badge ain't as shiny as it used to be," said Lance, who nodded at his Sergeant and made for the exit.

As Lance re-emerged into the corridor outside Burrows room, he stopped and breathed out_, _rubbing a hand over his lower face. Suddenly Special Agent Morgan appeared around the end of the corridor and approached lance.

"I heard what happened. How is she?"

"OK I think."

"Good. I need her working on the taskforce as soon as she's able," said Morgan, all business, but with a fire burning in her eyes, "if the events of tonight have taught us anything, it's that we have to be vigilant and prepared for organised crime at any time."

"Well that's one thing we do agree on," muttered Lance a he strode up the corridor and headed for the elevator. Relieved as he was by Burrows recovery, he was still as mad as hell that a member of his team, his close colleague had almost been killed by men who thought they could ignore the law. Lance would see each and every one of them brought to justice.

Ted Grant had finally persuaded Laurel Lance, aka the Canary, to call it a night. The streets were considerably quieter, to the point where SCPD regular patrols had re-commenced and a shift change in personnel had been organised, sending those who had been working for over 24 hours home for some much needed rest.

Ted, now minus his black ski mask, walked with Laurel through the back streets towards her apartment, keeping to the shadows as they walked for Laurel's all black leather costume and mask would definitely raise questions from prying eyes. They reached Laurel's apartment and used the rear fire escape to enter. Ted rubbed his face where he knew a solid bruise was forming, and gladly accepted a cold drink from Laurel. She slipped into her bedroom to change into a t-shirt and jeans before emerging to grab a drink herself. The two sat on her couch, adrenaline coursing through them after their night's physical exertions, occasionally looking at each other with warmth in their eyes.

Felicity managed to hold on to Oliver long enough whilst riding pillion on his motorcycle, to get back to the Arrow cave. Once there, Oliver administered a dose of OxyContin to Felicity, which made her far more amenable to her bullet wound being cleaned and stitched. Oliver slipped his grey track hoodie around her and zipped it up and steered her over to the mattress he used as his bed, and settled her down on it.

Roy and John arrived through the rear exit of the Arrow cave, and both threw a look at Felicity as they walked through into the main area of the room.

"Is she OK?" said Roy.

"She took a bullet in the arm, the wound's clean and stitched, she'll be fine," said Oliver softly, "how are you?"

"Fine," said Roy, "Thea texted, asked for some help upstairs. Apparently someone broke in a couple of hours ago, had their own version of a party. I'm gonna go help her clear up."

"Hey," said Oliver stepping towards Roy and holding out his hand, "thank you, for helping Laurel, and this city."

"Happy to," said Roy, gripping Oliver's hand in return.

Roy then headed off to get changed, before walking around the block and entering through Verdant's official entrance.

Thea was dragging a broom across the floor, sweeping up broken glass.

"I guess thugs having a party make as much mess as one-percenters having a party," said Roy.

"Funny," said Thea, who threw the broom at him, which he caught one-handed. They smiled at each other.

"Thanks for helping out," said Thea warmly.

"Anytime," said Roy.

Down in the Arrow cave, Diggle had finished his normal post-mission check of equipment and stock. Oliver returned to the room after slipping away to change into his camel chinos and a white t-shirt. Oliver walked over to Felicity's workstation, checking the monitors, his keen eyes taking in the police reports and images from CCTV across the city that Felicity had fed through her algorithm; there were no new alerts, the city was returning to normal.

Oliver sat in Felicity's chair and stared at the monitor in front of him, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Who or what had triggered the events of the past 24 hours, what had been their intention or their goal? As soon as Felicity was able to he was going to ask her to sift through all the evidence remaining with a fine tooth comb to try and answer those questions. Oliver stood up__and walked over to where he could see Felicity peacefully sleeping off the effect of the drug he'd given her. Diggle looked up at him whilst he was cleaning his pistol.

"She's OK Oliver, don't start tormenting yourself again," said Diggle.

"Hmmm?" said Oliver softly, turning to face Diggle.

"You actually think you're inscrutable. Believe me you have nothing on Lyla," said Diggle.

"Anything could have happened to her," said Oliver quietly.

"Nothing would have stopped her coming after you, and believe me I tried stopping her. She's not like us man, but I swear there's a core of steel in that woman," said Diggle, clicking shut a full bullet magazine into the hilt of the pistol.

"I never got a chance to ask earlier, but how'd the date go?" said Diggle, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Before we both got shot by tranquiliser darts you mean?"

"Yeah."

"It went….well," said Oliver, remembering back to the date with Felicity hours ago.

"Good. Then focus on that. She's already involved in your life whether you realise it or not, and I don't just mean when the street lights come on."

Diggle walked over to Oliver and patted him on the shoulder.

"Get some rest, you look done in," said John.

"I could say the same to you," said Oliver, turning to offer Diggle his hand, "thank you, for everything."

The two men firmly and warmly shook hands, and then Diggle headed for the rear exit of the Arrow cave, to return home to the two most important women in his life.

Oliver walked over to the mattress and the sleeping form of Felicity Smoak. Oliver crouched down and positioned himself lengthways alongside Felicity, and gently reached out an arm to place around her.

We think it's only those who wear masks, or carry a badge and gun, that risk danger by putting themselves in harm's way. We think these people are brave, which they are. But there are acts of bravery taking place in this city every day that go unnoticed – and they don't involve anyone firing arrows or chasing down bad guys to arrest them. Sometimes they can just involve a young woman using her IT skills and her courage to help those who need it.

Oliver Queen knew what the risks were and he accepted them, it was his job to take these risks. Felicity knew what the risks were, and knew she didn't have the abilities of a police officer or a vigilante, and yet she still offered to help night after night. In Oliver's opinion that made her the bravest out of them all.

It was time for Oliver to tell her, for the Arrow to tell her, that her bravery was recognised. Oliver Queen cast a long look at the side of Felicity's face resting on the pillow across from his, then closed his eyes and slept.

_**THE END**_

109


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